William Stafford: A Sunday Serenade

The Swallows by Felix Bracquemond 

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