Where the author pretentiously post a poem he enjoys.
Beginning
BY JAMES WRIGHT
The moon drops one or two feathers into the field.
The dark wheat listens.
Be still.
Now.
There they are, the moon’s young, trying
Their wings.
Between trees, a slender woman lifts up the lovely shadow
Of her face, and now she steps into the air, now she is gone
Wholly, into the air.
I stand alone by an elder tree, I do not dare breathe
Or move.
I listen.
The wheat leans back toward its own darkness,
And I lean toward mine.
James Wright, “Beginning” from Above the River: The Complete Poems and Selected Prose.
Lovely poem.
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Thank you very much
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Not my cuppa joe exactly, but very nice to contemplate, all the same! Thanks for posting.
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