DPF / Kunitz

While this should be a “first-day-of-autumn” poem, as it turns out, it’s a last-day-of-summer poem for centenarians from a centenarian, from poetryfoundation.org.

from End of Summer / by Stanley Kunitz (1905-2006)

I stood in the disenchanted field
Amid the stubble and the stones,
Amazed, while a small worm lisped to me
The song of my marrow-bones.