November Cotton Flower
BY JEAN TOOMER
Boll-weevil’s coming, and the winter’s cold,
Made cotton-stalks look rusty, seasons old,
And cotton, scarce as any southern snow,
Was vanishing; the branch, so pinched and slow,
Failed in its function as the autumn rake;
Drouth fighting soil had caused the soil to take
All water from the streams; dead birds were found
In wells a hundred feet below the ground—
Such was the season when the flower bloomed.
Old folks were startled, and it soon assumed
Significance. Superstition saw
Something it had never seen before:
Brown eyes that loved without a trace of fear,
Beauty so sudden for that time of year.
❤
❤
4 comments:
I like the poem and photo and painting about cotton. That is not something I see growing around where I live in California.
Beautiful poem and a beautiful photo to illustrate it.
Enjoy a lovely weekend : )
Beautiful post Sandi, i only saw and know the cotton fields from film and in combination with hard (slaves) labour,this poem shows another side, thanks, x
A lovely poem and photos to go with it. Have a great weekend!
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