Sunset, and the olive grove flames
on the far hill. We descend
into the lunging shadows
of goat grass, and the air
on the far hill. We descend
into the lunging shadows
of goat grass, and the air
deepens like smoke.
you were behind me, but when I turned
there was the wrangling of crows
and the long grass rising in the wind
you were behind me, but when I turned
there was the wrangling of crows
and the long grass rising in the wind
and the swelling tips of grain
turning to water under a black sky.
All around me the thousand
small denials of the day
turning to water under a black sky.
All around me the thousand
small denials of the day
rose like insects to the flaming
of an old truth, someone alone
following a broken trail of stones
toward the deep and starless river.
of an old truth, someone alone
following a broken trail of stones
toward the deep and starless river.
-Philip Levine, Alone
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/browse/118/3#20595193
I love the words he chooses - lunging shadows, swelling tips, deepens like smoke. It's such a rich verbal environment to impose the emotion of being alone. I really like this, so thanks for sharing it today!
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