Is it some turn of wind that funnels them all down at once, or is it their own voices netting to bring them in -- the roll and churr of hundreds searing through river light and cliff dust, each to its precise mud nest on the face -- none of our own isolate groping, wishing need could be sent so unerringly to solace. But this silk-skein flashing is like heaven brought down: not to meet ground or water, but to enter the riven earth and disappear. Copyright © Debra Nystrom. http://www.wlu.edu/~shenando | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY AIN WIFE by ALEXANDER LAING MESSMATES by HENRY JOHN NEWBOLT ABRAHAM LINCOLN (1) by RICHARD HENRY STODDARD THE MITHERLESS BAIRN by WILLIAM THOM THE BROOK: AUTUMN by LAURA ABELL THE PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION; A POEM. ENLARGED VERSION: BOOK 3 by MARK AKENSIDE WRITTEN IN BUTLER'S SERMONS by MATTHEW ARNOLD A LAMENT FOR PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN |