Every year, the bright
Scandinavian summer nights
fade away without anyone
noticing.
One evening in August
you have an errand outdoors,
and all of a sudden
it’s pitch-black.
A great warm, dark
silence
surrounds the house.
It is still summer,
but summer is no longer
alive.
It has come
to a standstill;
nothing
withers, and autumn
is not ready to begin.
There are no stars yet,
just darkness.
The can of kerosene
is brought up from the cellar
and left in the hall,
and the lamp is hung up
on its peg by the door.
Day by day,
everything
moves closer
to the house.
Tove Jansson, from The Summer Book, p.166
Some found poems
Like this:
Like Loading...
Related
Published by Anthony Wilson
I am a lecturer, poet and writing tutor. I work in teacher and medical education at the University of Exeter. My anthology Lifesaving Poems was published by Bloodaxe Books in 2015. In 2012 I published Riddance (Worple Press), a collection of poems, and Love for Now (Impress Books), a memoir, about my experience of cancer. My most recent books are Deck Shoes (Impress Books, 2019), a book of prose memoir and criticism, and The Afterlife (Worple Press, 2019). In 2023 I will publish The Wind and the Rain, my sixth collection of poems, with Blue Diode Press. My current research project, with Sue Dymoke from Nottingham Trent University and funded by the Foyle Foundation, is Young Poets' Stories: https://youngpoetsstories.com/. This blog is archived by the British Library.
View all posts by Anthony Wilson
Anthony Wilson 
Reblogged this on cjheries.
LikeLike
Thank you. A reminder of how much I love her writing.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you for saying so, Anthony
LikeLike
Lovely hymn to the nuances of each month, that is surely reinforced with age. I wonder if these things are more pronounced the nearer the poles we live – the idea of summer being ‘no longer alive’ echoes well in Scotland.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks so much Charlie. Heading to Borders anon, so will experience it first hand… See you soon, Anthony
LikeLike
Thanks for posting, Anthony. The Summer Book is one of my favourite books. Already, up here in Scotland, there is a sense of summer dwindling, and the Lammas Market, formerly the old hiring fair, has come to town, huge rides and machines sitting alongside and whirling above the medieval and Renaissance buildings in South Street and Market street.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hi Anna. I’m pleased you saw this and that it resonates. I’m heading north soon, so will be able to see what you describe for myself. Good wishes as ever, Anthony
LikeLike
How wonderful, this is exactly how I feel today -thank you!
LikeLike