Milkweed
While I stood here, in the open, lost in myself,
I must have looked a long time
Down the corn rows, beyond grass,
The small house,
White walls, animals lumbering toward the barn.
I look down now. It is all changed.
Whatever it was I lost, whatever I wept for
Was a wild, gentle thing, the small dark eyes
Loving me in secret.
It is here. At a touch of my hand,
The air fills with delicate creatures
From the other world.
--James Wright, from The Branch Will Not Break
4 comments:
Wonderful. So many feelings and pictures in one's mind are evoked here. Thanks for posting it.
Frances at Faire Garden
Wow!
'The air fills with delicate creatures
From the other world' - what incredible imagery. I love this line.
Thanks for introducing a poet I've not heard of before.
Frances--Hey, thanks for stopping by and reading it!
David--"Wow!" is right--this guy is one of my most favorite poets ever.
Kate--Just doing my job, you know. Poetry matters more in our world than ever (I'm biased), especially to gardeners who DO have moments like this often.
Post a Comment