The Well Rising
The well rising without sound,
the spring on a hillside,
the plowshare through deep ground
everywhere in the field-
The sharp swallows in their swerve
flaring and hesitating
hunting for the final curve
coming closer and closer-
The swallow heart from wing beat to wing beat
counseling decision, decision;
thunderous examples. I place my feet
with care in such a world.
William Stafford
I've been trying to write a swallow poem for the better part of my life. I ran across this the other day and thought, well, there it is. Not by me, but there it is.
Beautiful poem by the beautiful William Stafford.
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It is with great sadness I note the passing of one of the greatest singer/songwriters of his generation: Jesse Winchester. He came into the public eye when he emigrated to Canada to avoid the draft and his first self-titled album was produced by the Band's Robbie Robertson (and the Band plays on two cuts).
Give a listen to his little known masterpiece, 3rd Down, 110 to Go - once you start, it's hard to stop. Rest in piece, friend.
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Photo by Tom Soper
evening tide--
on the grass blade's tip
a red dragonfly
Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue
best,
Don
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