Welcome back to the Daily Poem on the Close Reeds Podcast Network.

I'm David Kern.

Today's poem is by Jane Kenyon.

She lived from 1947 to 1995 and was an American poet.

She was married to Donald Hall, you may remember, from previous episodes of this podcast. The poem that I'm

going to read for today's episode is called Three Songs at the End of Summer, and it seemed

appropriate as we enter August. For most of us, at least in certain parts of this country,

summer is at least the summer weather is far from over, but that's okay.

The summer vacation is drawing to a close for most of us, so I figure it's as good a time as any.

So it's three, it's one poem, or it's published just one poem, but it's three separate poems of various lengths.

And I will note when the next one starts.

This is three songs at the end of summer by Jane Kenyon. A second crop of hay lies cut and turned. Five gleaming crows search and peck

between the rows. They make a low, companionable squawk, and like midwives and undertakers possess a weird authority.

Crickets leap from the stubble, parting before me like the Red Sea.

The gardens sprawls and spoils.

Across the lake, the campers have learned to water ski.

They have, or they haven't, Sounds of the instructor's megaphone

suffuse the hazy air

Relax

Cloud shadows rush over drying hay

Fences dusty lane and railroad ravine

First yellowing fronds of goldenrod

...