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More poems by James WrightJames Wright | Print this page.Print | View and Write CommentsComments (3) | Books by James WrightBooks by James Wright

Beginning

James Wright

The moon drops one or two feathers into the fields.
The dark wheat listens.
Be still.
Now.
There they are, the moon's young, trying
Their wings.
Between trees, a slender woman lifts up the lovely shadow
Of her face, and now she steps into the air, now she is gone
Wholly, into the air.
I stand alone by an elder tree, I do not dare breathe
Or move.
I listen.
The wheat leans back toward its own darkness,
And I lean toward mine.

Added: 2 Dec 2001 | Last Read: 19 Nov 2018 6:46 PM | Viewed: 10581 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/2145/ | Viewed on 19 November 2018.
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