![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFFjZGJGRxYNchtrDhuJhas0Ubd1wVs1kPXoPYiwiRd4I9m3bDFNKtO8JqukB-hjyTRqw7FzJtqn7O9gGG30KiyCbc0I4D9O0IlkKlJLp01TBe8pt5VNO4wKYQsv9bqk1Zzq1PPD5ne2k/s320/article-0-0B9035A600000578-135_634x788.jpg)
Relieved, I let the book fall behind a stone.
I climb a slight rise of grass.
I do not want to disturb the ants
Who are walking single file up the fence post,
Carrying small white petals,
Casting shadows so frail that I can see through them.
I close my eyes for a moment and listen.
The old grasshoppers
Are tired, they leap heavily now,
Their thighs are burdened.
I want to hear them, they have clear sounds to make.
Then lovely, far off, a dark cricket begins
In the maple trees.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3CdbGLz7pYdo-fIjCYHne_pN9C83PH1siN4Ve0tTqW04X02PcUGvuZ1BpqQVR7rfPNWCzsBwfU5EEUsGGr3qWqOBH6C8QPaCIT4p_8QdGq5jug1MViV8J5oqDfCezaTOFRHAAcsTqwjk/s200/james_wright.jpg)
Photography credit: Andiyan Lutfi (originally color).
No comments :
Post a Comment
Thank you for participating respectfully in this blog's community of readers.