Monday, September 24, 2007

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


sam of the ten thousand things said...

A great poem. Every time I read this piece, I'm fascinated by the lone cricket in the trees. I hear the sound at the end, each time, for the first time.

Thanks for posting it.

Valerie Loveland said...

I love Wright's long titles. The image of the ants and the petals is gorgeous.

Molly said...

Yes, I love the shadow...