Sometimes the Heart is a Shallow Autumn River - Jane Hirshfield
Is rock and shadow, bird.
Is fry, as the smallest fish are called,
darting in the pan of nearness.
The frog’s flawless interpretation of the music “Leaf”
is a floating black-eyed emerald
slipped between the water and its reflections.
And caution, and hope, and sorrow?
As umbrellas are, to a mountain or field of grass.
No comments:
Post a Comment
I'd love to hear what you think! To leave a comment - comment as/sign in with your Google ID if you have one, or website or blog address, or if these don't apply, sign in as Anonymous, and leave your name if you like!