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
Wonderful. So many feelings and pictures in one's mind are evoked here. Thanks for posting it.
Frances at Faire Garden
'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.
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