All Hallows

All Hallows(ˈhalō)

By Louise Glück

Even now this landscape(ˈlan(d)ˌskāp) is assembling(əˈsembəl).
The hills darken. The oxen(ˈäksən)
sleep in their blue yoke(yōk),
the fields having been
picked clean, the sheaves(SHēvz)
bound evenly and piled(pīl) at the roadside
among cinquefoil(ˈsiNGkˌfoil), as the toothed(to͞oTH) moon rises:

This is the barrenness(ˈberənˌnəs)
of harvest(ˈhärvəst) or pestilence(ˈpestələns).
And the wife leaning(ˈlēniNG) out the window
with her hand extended, as in payment,
and the seeds
distinct, gold(ɡōld), calling
Come here
Come here, little one

And the soul creeps(krēp) out of the tree