And when they sat down in the morning to bowls of cold cereal, each in turn would notice the blades of a ceiling fan spinning at the bottom of their spoons, small enough to swallow, yet no one ever mentioned it, neither looking up nor into each other's eyes for fear of feeding the hunger that held them there. 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...A CRADLE SONG by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS by EDMUND JOHN ARMSTRONG TO SLEEP, WHEN SICK OF A FEVER by PHILIP AYRES PSALM 122 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE ECHOES OF SPRING: 1 by MATHILDE BLIND ECHOES OF SPRING: 7 by MATHILDE BLIND NATALIA'S RESURRECTION: 11 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT WINTER TREES by MARGARET PERKINS BRIGGS ON MR. CHURCHILL'S SEVENTIETH BIRTHDAY (NOVEMBER 30, 1944) by CHARLES WILLIAM BRODRIBB |