I tense my shoulder. No one knows
A last free gesture, then turn toward home;
What the slit eye loosed into the world
Waits and won’t come.
Though I am its guardian, knowing its name,
Now it belongs all over the range.
Gates can’t hold it; fences won’t even
Know when it passes.
Just a glimpse up there on the ridge:
Winter and I understand each other.
Did you enjoy the the artible “On Winter Ridge” from William Stafford on OZOFE.COM? Do you know anyone who could enjoy it as much as you do? If so, don't hesitate to share this post to them and your other beloved ones.
Leave a Reply