A few years ago I received from a neighbor, an elderly woman, who was in the beginning stages of Alzeimer’s Disease, a Macy’s shopping bag that was filled with drafts, poems and correspondence from her nephew Donal, who had recently died. He had been born in Ireland, raised in Queens, and had stopped publishing in journals around 1980. Although I expressed reluctance at accepting something that seemed so important to her family, she insisted, stating “I know you will see that they are well cared for".
AUTUMN WITH YOU My Caer, 1952-1979
1999
Farmers prepare the ground
for winter wheat
the air has been turning for days,
turning toward Autumn
season of dusk
that I love the best.
The local peaches
are at their peak,
the apples are on their way.
Through these woods
I’ve walked twenty Autumns
since you left this world.
You are still my swan
with the spirit song
that brings deep rest
to all who hear.
My glimmering one
what would you think of me
now that the red beard you loved
is turning gray,
and the hardness of the years
is chiseled in my face?
As sand or water
slips through my open hands,
the moments are now
few and fleeting
that I sense you near,
hear your voice, feel your
kiss and embrace
in this season of dusk
that I hate and love the best,
the season I lost you,
the season I met you.
Autumn With You
Note: Caer was the beloved of Aengus, Celtic god of love and poetry. He first saw Caer in a dream vision. When he found her after years of heart sickness, they flew away, singing such an other-worldly song that it placed all who heard it into a deep, restorative sleep for three days.