To the Light of September

I actually came across this in June, but it is both lovely and apt to revisit it in September.

He evokes the duality of the moment, of the light, so beautifully - present or not, neither before nor after; and the impermanence of a single breath in time

with nowhere to hide you
to keep you for later

Writing this, I'm tempted to expand on what's in the poem - to go find more works by Merwin, or try to think of something profound to say. (I can, at least, look up mullein, which turns out to be a plant with "yellow flowers and downy leaves."

Mostly I just want to reread and reread:

the whispering birds,

the blue plums,

only a name that tells of you;

and bask in how Merwin speaks directly to the light of September, calling us to notice by noticing.