Friday, September 21, 2012

The last day of summer

Depressed by a Book of Bad Poetry, I Walk Toward an Unused Pasture and Invite the Insects to Join Me

Relieved, I let the book fall behind a stone.
I climb a slight rise of grass
I do not want to disturb the ants
Who are walking single file up the fence post,
Carrying small white petals,
Casting shadows so frail that I can see through them.
I close my eyes for a moment and listen.
The old grasshoppers
Are tired, they leap heavily now,
Their thighs are burdened.
I want to hear them, they have clear sounds to make.
Then lovely, far off, a dark cricket begins
In the maple trees. 

--James Wright


Steve Reed said...

Love it. I don't know James Wright, but this is great -- it speaks to me of shedding our ideas and participating in reality.

Reya Mellicker said...

Oh! How cool, Steve!