Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Molehill

Molehill

The starlings, unfolding and rippling,
a heavy quilt held by two people, one

on each end to shake the sand free.
Could our traffic look beautiful

from the height of flying birds,
a red flush of brake lights in rain.

A bird can’t be so desperate as we
are to let the obstinate land please

us. There is a place you return to,
hoping to be fed, a lake, a hill,

a split rock or shore. There is a
mountain to stare up at, made up

of each mountain you have seen,
each day you lived without rocks

hoisted up in the sky. The mountain
accumulates, borrows dirt and rock

and bird, borrows ocean and riverbed,
will borrow you if you keep looking.

5 comments:

  1. I like the contrast you draw between the bird at liberty in the sky and the land as anchor and something to be mastered; also that sense of the mountain as borrower and furtive accumulator, what seems to rise out of nothing to command.

    Lovely work by Wright.

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  2. ...and the mountain is truth

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  3. so so beautiful! My fave in a while ;)

    thea.
    xx

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  4. I can't stop looking, soon to be borrowed. ;)

    Gracias, mi amiga

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  5. lovely details in this and the whole thing unfolds beautifully

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