rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind

Arrival

The clouds have thickened and the heat has persisted. Something similar to a sunrise is happening, but it consists mostly of satin banners of light hung on gray ramparts. The crows and jays greet it noisily nevertheless. Crickets continue to sing as the growing light reveals night-built webs containing dark spiders and, sometimes, their still-struggling prey. Things happen while the moon is gone. I hear a lawn sprinkler sputter into action down the block, and a slight breeze flutters the mulberry tree's deep green leaves. All night has passed to bring only this brief breath of cooling air, soon to be steamed away. The vapor from the lawn sprinkler will appear later among those white clouds now catching the sun's first rays.




Sunday Verse

Pastoral


by William Carlos Williams



The little sparrows 
hop ingenuously 
about the pavement 
quarreling 
with sharp voices 
over those things 
that interest them. 
But we who are wiser 
shut ourselves in 
on either hand 
and no one knows 
whether we think good 
or evil. 

                    Meanwhile, 
the old man who goes about 
gathering dog-lime 
walks in the gutter 
without looking up 
and his tread 
is more majestic than 
that of the Episcopal minister 
approaching the pulpit 
of a Sunday. 
                    These things 
astonish me beyond words.
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