Sunday, November 7, 2010

I Wish We Might Do

"I called you because I could not stand alone
looking north to that skyline
tree globed with its yellow apples
balancing like a fountain of planets
in the bright light and the blue air.

And because on the way there
I looked at a smooth cirque
The brook had worn in a stone;
and nothing as soft as water
could, by taking care,
have so pestled and polished
that granite mortar; only
by a thousand years of indifference
of aiming elsewhere.

I wish we might do, or no,
look back and find we had done-
some unadvertized thing,
overwhelming and unself-aware
as water streamling a stone,
or a trees kindling in an
empty meadow its
casual Hesperides."

Poem by P.K. Default

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