What animal you are or whether you are an animal, I am too dumb to tell. Some moments, I feel you've come out of the earth, out of some cool white stone deep down in the earth. Or there brushes past and lurks in a corner the thought that you slipped from a tree when the earth stopped spinning, that a blue shell brought you when the sea tired waltzing. You might be a mouse, the dryad of a woodpecker, or a pure tiny fish dream; you might be something dropped from the sky, not a god-child — I wouldn't have you that — nor a cloud — though I love clouds. You're something not a bird, I can tell. If I could find you somewhere outside of me, I might tell — but inside? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI: 7. THE SILENCE by JOHN GOULD FLETCHER OPPORTUNITY by NICCOLO MACHIAVELLI INVITATION by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS THE FROGS: HYMN OF THE INITIATES by ARISTOPHANES WESTERN MORNING by WILLIMINA L. ARMSTRONG DEDICATIONS AND INSCRIPTIONS: 2. EPILOGUE: 5TH OCTOBER 1896 by GORDON BOTTOMLEY |