The Signs Are There Before Us
Glosa, quoting from Richard Wilbur
Clothed with its usual thunder, and the stones
Beginning now to tug their shadows in
And track the air with glitter. All these things
Are there before us; there before we look
—Richard Wilbur, Lying1
Here, the amber dance of twilight in its infancy A honeymoon of sidelong glances from the sun Struck like a golden gong hung from the mantel Over evening’s hearth. Here, each oaken limb Becomes a quickened spall of perpetuity Itself. If, for a moment, you are blinded, stand Awhile until your eyes can bear this glimpse Into eternity’s baptismal font. You may be on holy ground; the burning bush has come to you Clothed with its usual thunder, and the stones Beneath your feet cry out, the only voice aloft. Even birds are hushed, apprised of worship’s Posture, her quiescent tongue. Should this ablution Linger, who can say what dreams we may forsake, Unmade by glory poured too full; evanescence Is its own protection. See how purple climbs Before we’ve seen our fill, how immortality Awakes as nature settles down to rest: that longing For the trees to hold their light, the glowing trees Beginning now to tug their shadows in. Above the canopy a softer splendor Folds you in its arms, tender and irenic: In the place of conflagration, just an ember Placed onto your eyes to purify your sight. Holiness has filled the goblet of the sky, The best wine saved for last in contravention Of the way our days diminish at the close. Made merry, now the brightest of the firmament Rise to their ancient dance, take up the flame And track the air with glitter. All these things Agree; where beauty builds its house, there lives A longing for perfection’s kiss, a maranatha Placed within the chambers of your heart. Come to the window then, and stay to see The kindling of this evening’s burning bush; Remove your shoes lest you forgetfully neglect The presence of the Fire behind the flame. You are the gong, resounding while the sun Slants immortality into the trees. The signs Are there before us; there before we look.
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This poem was generated by the author’s human mind. No AI chatbot was used.2
Wilbur’s full poem can be found here: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/51626/lying
Does this make me sound like a curmudgeon? (Not that I really care all that much, but figured I’d ask.)
Wow, Mark. This one is something. So many good lines! And it manages to be deeply theological without sacrificing any of the vividness of real things, which is so hard to do. Might want to look at getting this one published. I wouldn't know a good place to go for that, but Claire might have thoughts!
Love the last point made here, Mark: “The signs are there before us; there before we look.” It’s often how I feel about nature. On the one hand, it’s always there for us and welcomes a relationship. On the other, it’s up to us to notice what it has to offer. Nice work as always.