Читать книгу The Road Out - Deborah Hicks - Страница 7

I want to be lifted up

By some great white bird unknown to the police,

And soar for a thousand miles and be carefully hidden

Modest and golden as one last corn grain,

Stored with the secrets of the wheat and the mysterious lives

Of the unnamed poor.

James Wright, “The Minneapolis Poem,”

Shall We Gather at the River