You don't have to run to know what resistance feels like

Friday, January 1, 2010

Poetry that moves

I have been walking a lot more, as in I have been taking a walk everyday at about the same time. Trying to clear my head and center myself again. It's been a really nice and stable addition to my life. I think I will continue it, maybe that will be my only resolution of this new year and new decade.


A Late Walk

Robert Frost
WHEN I go up through the mowing field,
The headless aftermath,
Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew,
Half closes the garden path.

And when I come to the garden ground,
The whir of sober birds
Up from the tangle of withered weeds
Is sadder than any words.

A tree beside the wall stands bare,
But a leaf that lingered brown,
Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought,
Comes softly rattling down.

I end not far from my going forth
By picking the faded blue
Of the last remaining aster flower
To carry again to you.

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