Why does this written doe bound through these written woods?/
For a drink of water from a spring/whose surface will xerox her
soft muzzle?/Why does she lift her head:does she hear something?/
Perched on four slim legs borrowed from the truth/ she pricks up
her ears beneath my fingertips./ Silence-- this word also rustles
across the page/ and parts the boughs/ that have sprouted from
the word "woods".
By Wislawa Zymborska
- ► 2009 (13)
- A weighty issue
- More gushing power for the cascades, after the rai...
- Pines and a desolate wind-swept landscape
- Moss-covered stone on the way
- Misty mountain high
- Rain, rain
- The village of Laitkynsew
- Flowers blooming at the Resort
- And now the photos!
- Cherrapunjee Holiday Resort, Laitkynsew
- Bobby Cash
- The Joy of Writing
- ▼ April (13)