Wednesday, May 21, 2014



A Black Kite

These long cool days at the end of spring

begin with a soundless blaze at sunrise

above the distant rim of the valley

all day clouds gather and clear again

as I remember other cold springtimes here

through the coming and going of years

the losses the changes the long love come to at last

with the river down there flowing through it all

under the clear moment that never changed

in all that time not asking for anything

still the wren sings and the oriole remembers

and every evening now a black kite

glides low overhead coming from the upland

alone not climbing the thermals not hunting

not calling not busy about anything

wings and tail scarcely moving as he

slips out above the open valley

filled with the long gold light before sunset

sailing into it only to be there


W.S. Merwin
The Moon Before Morning
Copper Canyon Press, 2014


Single the sky, pulled taut above earth

single the sky, above water. Bound

to bark and leaves. You are solo.

Blended into paint and forced into color

the song of a man in his bed at dusk

the sparrows lighting outside his window.


Peter Gizzi
In Defense of Nothing
Selected Poems 1987-2011
Wesleyan, 2014