Fall means two things to KNAU listener Rob Bettaso of Lakeside: bike riding and Robert Frost poems. He has combined the two in this week's Poetry Friday segment with an original poem called 'Bicycle Largo'.
Rob Bettaso:
This poem came from a bicycle ride through the neighborhood, through the area around Lakeside, Arizona on the county lands. Basically, it’s just observational; what I saw, what I see on any given bike ride. But this time of year, late summer/early fall, I’m always inspired by the poems of Robert Frost, so this poem definitely has a reference to him. There’s a quote towards the end of the poem about, "So Eden sank to grief". That's directly from his poem 'Nothing Gold Can Stay'. And it just - to me - captures both the beauty and the sadness that surrounds us.
Bicycle Largo, by Rob Bettaso
Unlocking my bike from the fence post,
Two Scrub Jays scold - scratchy, strident, and,
What should be rage.
At we, those who had to do what we did,
And spoil it all for the rest.
But, in late thick summer,
The sun warm such,
That I’m swimming through a sea,
Of blood warm air.
Gravel road, horse pasture, then scrubby field,
Where, a falling near Fall scrub-oak leaf,
Corn-yellow, intertwines with a yellow-winged grasshopper.
Their colors, their movements,
Mixing in the cornflower blue sky.
Cawing crow, apple sweet air,
Blood pumping, mind clear.
In time, down a different road, paved now,
But still sleepy.
Still late summer sleepy.
Snow will eventually fall,
Muffle all,
Make cars slide.
Now, though in the distance,
Kids down the road,
Two, facing, talking.
Bridging the space,
On my bicycle.
Two girls,
No longer talking.
No longer facing,
Walking, in opposite directions.
One toward me,
But still distant.
One away.
Approaching, it becomes clear,
One arm severed above the elbow,
The end; smooth, pinker.
Her young face, fighting tears,
And heart-wrenching,
To me.
The distant girl,
Still moving away,
Showing only back.
Skipping in exaggerated fashion,
Swinging girl’s arms, in swaggering way.
Open weedy field,
Composite flowers,
Maybe Black-eyed Susan’s.
Comprised of sun yellow rays,
Ten in all,
A deep brown disk,
Nickel sized.
Within bike’s reach,
A flower stem, plucked.
Yielding the bloom.
Nine yellow rays,
One missing.
So Eden Sank To Grief,
Weeks before first frost.
Poetry Friday is produced by KNAU's Gillian Ferris. If you have an idea for a segment, drop her an email at gillian.ferris@nau.edu.
