Porch Swing in September

By Ted Kooser

The porch swing hangs fixed in a morning sun
that bleaches its gray slats, its flowered cushion
whose flowers have faded, like those of summer,
and a small brown spider has hung out her web
on a line between porch post and chain
so that no one may swing without breaking it.
She is saying it's time that the swinging were done with,
time that the creaking and pinging and popping
that sang through the ceiling were past,
time now for the soft vibrations of moths,
the wasp tapping each board for an entrance,
the cool dewdrops to brush from her work
every morning, one world at a time.

九月的门廊秋千

门廊秋千悬挂在晨阳下
耀白了灰色的横条与花垫
其上的花已凋零，和夏花一样
一只棕色小蜘蛛挂出一张网
横亘在门柱与秋千链之间
没有摇荡不会破裂
她说，是时候了，该结束这种摇晃
结束嘎吱声响，结束乒乓噪音
天花板上的歌唱已成过往
现在是飞蛾轻微震颤的时候了
黄蜂轻敲木板寻觅入口
刷下清凉露珠成了她的工作
每一个清晨，一次一个世界

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