Sundays . . . Are For Poetry
by Marvin Bell
We need some pines to assuage the darkness
when it blankets the mind,
We need a silvery stream that banks as smoothly
as a plane's wing, and a worn bed of
needles to pad the rumble that fills the mind,
and a blur or two of a wild thing
that sees and is not seen. We need these things
between appointments, after work,
and, if we keep them, then someone someday,
lying down after a walk
and supper, with the fire hole wet down,
the whole night sky set at a particular
time, without numbers or hours, will cause
a little sound of thanks--a zipper or a snap--
to close round the moment and the thought
of whatever good we did.
from Rampant by Marvin Bell; copyright 2004 Marvin Bell
Your poem reminds me a poem from Mary Oliver's new book which was recently published.
A THOUSAND MORNINGS
All night my heart makes its way
however it can over the rough ground
of uncertainties, but only until night
meets and then is overwhelmed by
morning, the light deepening, the
wind easing and just waiting, as I
too wait (and when have I ever been
disappointed?) for redbird to sing.
Posted by: margene | 11/18/2012 at 09:08 PM
I love this one. The images are beautiful, simple and powerful all at once.
Posted by: Carole | 11/19/2012 at 07:31 AM