looking for a tiny hint of spring...any hint...anywhere...
Apology
by Richard Wilbur
A word sticks in the wind's throat;
A wind-launch drifts in the wells of rye;
Sometimes, in broad silence,
The hanging apples distil their darkness.
You, in a green dress, calling, and with brown hair,
Who come by the field-path now, whose name I say
Softly, forgive me love if I also call you
Wind's word, apple-heart, haven of grasses.
by Richard Wilbur
A word sticks in the wind's throat;
A wind-launch drifts in the wells of rye;
Sometimes, in broad silence,
The hanging apples distil their darkness.
You, in a green dress, calling, and with brown hair,
Who come by the field-path now, whose name I say
Softly, forgive me love if I also call you
Wind's word, apple-heart, haven of grasses.
The day is gray and slightly flaky. I think my solace will come when I turn the calendar page tomorrow...
ReplyDeleteHey, I'm going out to Fargo next week. Hoping I'll have a chance to meet your friend there :>)
DeleteIt's been a difficult--and seemingly endless--winter.
ReplyDeleteOh, Annie. Hope you're not in Fargo this week with that storm a comin'. Stay warm.
ReplyDeleteIt was cold and grey and windy. The natives wear winter coats and shorts, sometimes flip-flops. Layover in Chicago both times. Cannot believe there doesn't exist an "I Hate O'Hare Airport." Maybe it's under Despise!!
Delete