That died last year
All those birds
That never returned
The weight of a heart
Have lifted have met
On north mountain
And black mesa
The gods have come down again
Over the new sparrows and crows
Whispering alright alright
We’ll try again
Just one more year
Just one more rain
3 comments:
always:)
and i might have mentioned but didn't remember until i sought it out for a different reason, Amy Clampitt's poem "The Hermit Thrush," do you know it? a perfect companion piece to any discussion about spring. it begins with uncertainty and ends like this,
...uncertain
as we are of so much in this existence, this
botched, cumbersome, much-mended,
not unsatisfactory thing.
Gratias, Erin. And let me know if you find anything in Mahon as remarkable as in Clampitt's "Thrush". And spring isn't even mentioned. It's almost more a great painting than a poem, "Dejeuner sur l'herbe" or something.
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