Читать книгу Where the Sky Opens - Laurie Klein - Страница 13
She Can Only Try to Compose Herself
ОглавлениеThe wood thrush at dusk echoes
every day’s hope,
each note a psalm of a self,
a white blossom
where rests fall between sounds
like petals. See the way air
cups a face that it loves, and light
strikes the hollow
curve of the throat, leaving it
speechless.
