The little wind I saw curving and lifting The black mare's mane Never came this way, Though I waited, face tilted: To wind as heliotropic is to sun. We have to keep our disappointment alive. We have to sustain our appal, act surprised That humanity has (again today!) Failed to evolve away from meanness. That we ourselves have failed in this. Invisible earth, I still can't feel any wind, Can't feel though I hear cottonwood leaves that hung still Turn sudden, turn all-at-once, Like small birds in a flight of small birds, turning, Like one thing instead of many, Turn silver side to the wind when it comes, Shiver and moan when it comes. O wind, immaculate, that lifts the mane, Immaculate, that turns the silver leaves, That bears away the smoke of sacrifice. The wind, when it finds me, bears no trace Of sage-sweet horsesmell, no color black, No softness of muzzle of the Mare, her mane curving and lifting, Where she grazes the horizon down to nothing. Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CROSS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON A HYMN OF HATE by DOROTHY PARKER THE TRANSIENCE OF HANDS by KAREN SWENSON THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN A HYMN TO CHRIST, AT THE AUTHOR'S LAST GOING INTO GERMANY by JOHN DONNE IN HOSPITAL: 28. DISCHARGED by WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY SEA SLUMBER-SONG by RODEN BERKELEY WRIOTHESLEY NOEL THE LETTER; EDWARD ROWLAND SILL, DIED FEBRUARY 27, 1887 by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |