Pastoral
wandering cows with grass on the higher meadows
warm or dried dung on shoes the length of legs having slipped
sweat and cold alternating precipitously in shadow and light
an eagle circuiting above the wind blowing through your brain
the sky - perfectly terse like glass trims the world below
with white precipices rocks further up in the roughest accessible
with white snow blinding
iced teeth iced lips iced ears frozen thoughts
cracks earthly gurgles hollowing echoing smashing snaps
void and full-full and void the gushing air
pulled into a vertigo when slabs are under stuck boots
the wind ghastly throwing you away against your will
11.46 pm - Bozen - Anny Ballardini
Anny Ballardini
http://www.fieralingue.it/poetcorner/index.php
If you go with rivers, not roads, the trip
takes longer and you weave and see a lot more.
(from Houses)
Richard Hugo
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