If things aren't things So much as happenings, Or a confluence even More complex, Then there's no such thing As sky, though sky Is real, and we Have not imagined it. The everlasting Never began. Everything, then, Is the direction everything Moves in, seeming Not to move. I am waiting For something very Nice to happen, And then it happens: Your long dark Hair sweeps Across my chest Like sweeps of prairie Rain. Loveliest Of motion's possessions, Hold me still. 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...PLACES: 4. EVENING (NAHANT) by SARA TEASDALE GOD'S WAY by HORATIO (HORATIUS) BONAR THE BAY FIGHT by HENRY HOWARD BROWNELL YOUTH AND CUPID by ELIZABETH I BACCHUS by RALPH WALDO EMERSON RONDEL by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE |