That dew-wet glistening wild iris doesn't know where it comes from, what drove the green fuse, the poet said, up and out into the flowering I see in the dank flat of the creek, my eye drawn there by a Virginia rail who keeps disappearing as they do, unlike the flower which stays exactly in the place the heron stands every day, the flower no doubt fertilized by heron shit, or deeper -- those rocky bones my daughter found of the Jurassic lizard. I said to the flower one brain-bleeding morning that I don't know where I came from either or where I'm going, such a banal statement however true. O wild iris here today and soon gone, the earth accepts us both without comment. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TRANSFORMATION by CARL SANDBURG FORGETFULNESS by HAROLD HART CRANE THE TEACHER by LESLIE PINCKNEY HILL THE PLOUGH; A LANDSCAPE IN BERKSHIRE by RICHARD HENGIST (HENRY) HORNE CA' THE YOWES TO THE KNOWES' by ISOBEL (ISABEL) PAGAN AN ORCHARD AT AVIGNON by AGNES MARY F. ROBINSON |