I don't have much good to say about this time of the year when darkness comes earlier every evening and the cold weather sets in. But I do still love the changing of the seasons - and poetry; always poetry.
Trying To Pray By James Wright
This time I have left my body behind me, crying
In its dark thorns.
Still,
There are good things in this world.
It is dusk.
It is the good darkness
Of women's hands that touch loaves.
The spirit of a tree begins to move.
I touch leaves.
I close my eyes and think of water.
No comments:
Post a Comment