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
3 comments:
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.
I love Wright's long titles. The image of the ants and the petals is gorgeous.
Yes, I love the shadow...
Post a Comment