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More poems by Jane KenyonJane Kenyon | Print this page.Print | View and Write CommentsComments | Books by Jane KenyonBooks by Jane Kenyon


Jane Kenyon

All day the blanket snapped and swelled
on the line, roused by a hot spring wind....
  From there it witnessed the first sparrow,
early flies lifting their sticky feet,
and a green haze on the south-sloping hills.
Clouds rose over the mountain....At dusk
I took the blanket in, and we slept,
restless, under its fragrant weight.

Added: 16 Jan 2002 | Last Read: 24 Mar 2018 7:46 PM | Viewed: 8243 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/2464/ | Viewed on 24 March 2018.
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