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Friday, September 21, 2012

Poem of the Week: Restless on Nature's Behalf, John Grey

I’m on chilled mountaintop             
dreaming of hot desert.
Or a mile into the salt marsh,
I wish it were clear and blue.

Absurd I know,
but pines, to me,
are so pigheaded
in their refusal to be palms.

And the more the river
curls and threads,
the more it is not ocean
and, up ahead,
a shoal of rapids
pummels feelings for dry land.

Copper leaves
should be green
and green, copper.
And why not wolf lullabies
and warbler howls.

It’s not as if I want
nature to be human.
But why can’t
something mindless
change its mind?

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