Today is relatively sunny and we're supposed to get snow later this weekend, but just in case I wake up one morning and find that it's June and I've missed the beautiful secretive, bare, dead-looking days by spending all my time at the mall, here it is, my favorite poem of spring (because it is spring now, even the snow smells a tiny bit green):
Spring and All
By the road to the contagious hospital
under the surge of the blue
mottled clouds driven from the
northeast--a cold wind. Beyond, the
waste of broad, muddy fields
brown with dried weeds, standing and fallen
patches of standing water
the scattering of tall trees
All along the road the reddish
purplish, forked, upstanding, twiggy
stuff of bushes and small trees
with dead, brown leaves under them
leafless vines--
Lifeless in appearance, sluggish
dazed spring approaches--
They enter the new world naked,
cold, uncertain of all
save that they enter. All about them
the cold, familiar wind--
Now the grass, tomorrow
the stiff curl of wildcarrot leaf
One by one objects are defined--
It quickens: clarity, outline of leaf
But now the stark dignity of
entrance--Still, the profound change
has come upon them: rooted, they
grip down and begin to awaken
~William Carlos Williams
Friday, March 18, 2005
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1 comment:
Sarah! You read my mind! (Okay, maybe everybody's mind. I think "Spring and All" is one of those archetypes floating around in the collective unconscious of English majors everywhere.)
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