Summer is Late, My Heart

Touch Me

by Stanley Kunitz

Summer is late, my heart.
Words plucked out of the air
some forty years ago
when I was wild with love
and torn almost in two
scatter like leaves this night
of whistling wind and rain.
It is my heart that's late,
it is my song that's flown.
Outdoors all afternoon
under a gunmetal sky
staking my garden down,
I kneeled to the crickets trilling
underfoot as if about
to burst from their crusty shells;
and like a child again
marveled to hear so clear
and brave a music pour
from such a small machine.
What makes the engine go?
Desire, desire, desire.
The longing for the dance
stirs in the buried life.
One season only,
and it's done.
So let the battered old willow
thrash against the windowpanes
and the house timbers creak.
Darling, do you remember
the man you married? Touch me,
remind me who I am.

please note: photo by Henri Cartier-Bresson


  1. Ooooh, I really loved this one, so vividly romantic.

  2. What a passionate piece of work.

  3. Thank you very much for that reminder!

  4. He was an amazing poet, wasn't he? Wonderful!

  5. Oh, this is absolutely beautiful.

  6. Perfectly fitting picture and such a beautiful gut wrenching poem. I had the feeling I'd read this before somewhere. Particularly when I read; "touch me and remind me who I am".... perhaps it is such a commanding image that it seems familier...

  7. She swoons ... splat (and keels over) ... still working on the balance thing.


    And so delightful to see a photo by the masterful Henri. Anyone who has to live with a hyphenated last name has my undying (not zombiesque, tho') admiration. ~;^D

  8. Oh to have the response poem to this one!

    The poem is great, but I think the photo captures the poem's title even better than the words!

  9. Touch me, remind me who I am.



  10. Beautiful poem...and much much better than the lyrics of the Doors song of the same name that went through my head when I saw the title up there....


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