I am the self of my former shadow. There's a forest lost in me. When I walk there the wind scrapes overhead Like a river I'm at the bottom of. The opposite of a river, This furry ridge nonetheless Flows away and spills itself onto the prairie, Or maybe it's a root the high peaks need To fasten them down. A hundred miles across the sea that went away, Now windcarved sandstone and cow-specked pasture, A single peak, triangular Like a windmill sail, Lifts itself into the air And turns the wheel. Hollow breath of the high couloirs Turns the branches to water. Still, but still loud down here among So much @3knowing what to do@1. I can take a hint. I walk down onto the plain. Like a small flame I Steady myself. 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...THE WILD FLOWER'S SONG by WILLIAM BLAKE THE IMMORTAL MIND by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THE WAVES OF BREFFNY by EVA GORE-BOOTH AT CASTERBRIDGE FAIR: 7. AFTER THE FAIR by THOMAS HARDY THE STEAM-ENGINE: CANTO 9. VISION OF THE WORLD by T. BAKER THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN HYMEN AND CUPID - MARRIAGE AND LOVE by APHRA BEHN |