Deep into spring, winter is hanging on. Bitter and skillful in his hopelessness, he stays alive in every shady place, starving along the Mediterranean: angry to see the glittering sea-pale boulder alive with lizards green as Judas leaves. Winter is hanging on. He still believes. He tries to catch a lizard by the shoulder. One olive tree below Grottaglie welcomes the winter into noontime shade, and talks as softly as Pythagoras. Be still, be patient, I can hear him say, cradling in his arms the wounded head, letting the sunlight touch the savage face.
Added: 2 Dec 2001 | Last Read: 4 Dec 2008 4:56 AM | Viewed: 4404 times
A custom PoetryNotes™ eBook may be ordered for this poem. Get help with your homework - delivered in 5-6 days.
For more information...
![[home]](http://plagiarist.com/images/home.gif)
James Wright
Print
Analysis
Comments