Woke up convinced that the phone was ringing. It was only the springtime birds singing.
Comments
At the earliest ending of winter,
In March, a scrawny cry from outside
Seemed like a sound in his mind.
In March, a scrawny cry from outside
Seemed like a sound in his mind.
He knew that he heard it,
A bird's cry, at daylight or before,
In the early March wind.
The sun was rising at six,
No longer a battered panache above snow...
It would have been outside.
It was not from the vast ventriloquism
Of sleep's faded papier-mache...
The sun was coming from the outside.
That scrawny cry--It was
A chorister whose c preceded the choir.
It was part of the colossal sun,
Surrounded by its choral rings,
Still far away. It was like
A new knowledge of reality.
—posted by Jim at February 15, 2007 3:36 PM
"At the earliest ending of winter" seems like a figure of global warming, though old Stevens won't have had that in mind.
It's Wallace (Stevens), for those who don't recognize it. (Can't let nothing go unattributed.)
—posted by Ezra at February 17, 2007 3:01 AM
Post a comment