Wow, Dave, I was about to write you're really good, echoes of both Robert Frost and Gerard Manley Hopkins! Then I saw the assignation. So all I can say is, this was a good poem to share. Thanks.
On Monday, July 6, 2015 at 1:48:34 PM UTC-4, Dave Redmon wrote: > > I listen, and the mountain lakes > hear snowflakes come on those winter wings > only the owls are awake to see, > their radar gaze and furred ears > alert. In that stillness a meaning shakes; > And I have thought (maybe alone > on my bike, quaintly on a cold > evening pedaling home), Think!- > the splendor of our life, its current unknown > as those mountains, the scene no one sees. > O citizens of our great amnesty: > we might have died. We live. Marvels > coast by, great veers and swoops of air > so bright the lamps waver in tears, > and I hear in the chain a chuckle I like to hear. > > > "Maybe Alone On My Bike" by William Stafford from The Way It Is. © > Graywolf Press, 1999. Reprinted with permission. -- You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "RBW Owners Bunch" group. To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email to [email protected]. To post to this group, send email to [email protected]. Visit this group at http://groups.google.com/group/rbw-owners-bunch. For more options, visit https://groups.google.com/d/optout.
