Guest poem sent in by Krithika
(Poem #1373) Acceptance When the spent sun throws up its rays on cloud And goes down burning into the gulf below, No voice in nature is heard to cry aloud At what has happened. Birds, at least must know It is the change to darkness in the sky. Murmuring something quiet in her breast, One bird begins to close a faded eye; Or overtaken too far from his nest, Hurrying low above the grove, some waif Swoops just in time to his remembered tree. At most he thinks or twitters softly, 'Safe! Now let the night be dark for all of me. Let the night bee too dark for me to see Into the future. Let what will be, be.' |
Leave it to Frost to present readers with a lovely montage of Nature's best moments. It's in fleeting expressions like these that the deepest reflections can be found. Makes you wonder if you ever really ever lived life for the 'sheer pleasure of flying' Krithika
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Martin Julian DeMello writes on 10/17/2003 6:09 AM:
> Guest poem sent in by Krithika
>
> 'Acceptance'
>
> When the spent sun throws up its rays on cloud
God, this poem is beautiful. And best of all, I'm currently in Boston
on a business trip. Just seeing the countryside around Boston in
november, when the weather is pleasant, and when the full blast of
winter hasn't set in as yet ... well, all I can say is that this poem
perfectly fits into all this.
Thanks so much for this post. A combination of advice that I've heard before but always bears repeating; plus new tips that I really ought to consider
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