Stones, brown tufted grass, but no water, it is dry to the bottom. A seedy eye of orange hawkweed blinks in sunlight stupidly, a mink bumbles away, a ringnecked snake among stones lifts its head like a spark, a dead young woodcock -- long dead, the mink will not touch it -- sprawls in the hatchment of its soft plumage and clutches emptiness with drawn talons. This is the ravine today. But in spring it cascaded, in winter it filled with snow until it lay hidden completely. In time, geologic time, it will melt away or deepen beyond recognition, a huge gorge. These are what I remember and foresee. These are what I see here every day, not things but relationships of things, quick changes and slow. These are my sorrow, for unlike my bright admonitory friends I see relationships, I do not see things. These, such as they are, every day, every unique day, the first in time and the last, are my thoughts, the sequences of my mind. I wonder what they mean. Every day, day after day, I wonder what they mean. Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A PRAYER TO THE WIND by THOMAS CAREW THE MODERN MAJOR-GENERAL, FR. THE PIRATES OF PENZANCE by WILLIAM SCHWENCK GILBERT TO LEIGH HUNT, ESQ. by JOHN KEATS DEFIANT OF DEATH by EVA K. ANGLESBURG PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 28. AS-BAZIR by EDWIN ARNOLD PSALM 93 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |