Mary Bly

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by James Wright


I sit here, doing nothing, alone, worn out by long winter.
I feel the light breath of the newborn child.
Her face is smooth as the side of an apricot,
Eyes quick as her blond mother's hands.
She has full, soft, red hair, and as she lies quiet
In her tall mother's arms, her delicate hands
Weave back and forth.
I feel the seasons changing beneath me,
Under the floor.
She is braiding the waters of air into the plaited manes
Of happy colts.
They canter, without making a sound, along the shores
Of melting snow.

Comments

  1. SanFebruary 16, 2009 at 7:59 PM

    That quietude is lovely--so right (or Wright).

    ReplyDelete
  2. RudeeFebruary 16, 2009 at 11:26 PM

    I can't wait for the seasons to change beneath me. It won't be this week with yet another winter storm to come. I'm ready for the newness of spring.

    ReplyDelete
  3. debraFebruary 17, 2009 at 4:49 PM

    I, too, am worn out by this long winter. I see the quality of the light change, and the days are longer.
    I am ready...

    ReplyDelete
  4. AnonymousFebruary 17, 2009 at 7:48 PM

    Lovely poem and beautiful photograph.

    ReplyDelete
  5. modyMarch 1, 2009 at 7:46 PM

    I can't wait for the seasons to change beneath me. It won't be this week with yet another winter storm to come. I'm ready for the newness of spring.

    ReplyDelete

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Hey, thanks for your thoughts and your time:>)

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