Saturday, January 28, 2006


This poem just came back to me this morning, eventhough it has been over a decade since I read and discussed it in a college classroom. I wonder why poems stay, and why they spring back to the forefront of your mind?

Lying In A Hammock At William Duffy's Farm In Pine Island, Minnesota
James Wright

Over my head, I see the bronze butterfly,
Asleep on the black trunk,
blowing like a leaf in green shadow.
Down the ravine behind the empty house,
The cowbells follow one another
Into the distances of the afternoon.
To my right,
In a field of sunlight between two pines,
The droppings of last year's horses
Blaze up into golden stones.
I lean back, as the evening darkens and comes on.
A chicken hawk floats over, looking for home.
I have wasted my life.


Blogger Michael Parker said...

Wonderful poem. Thanks.

9:47 PM, January 29, 2006  
Blogger J.B. Rowell said...

Thanks Michael - that last line recasts everything before it . . .

7:06 PM, January 30, 2006  

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