Monday, August 26, 2013

sometimes in the open

sometimes in the open you look up
where birds go by, or just nothing,
and wait. a dim feeling comes
you were like this once, there was air,
and quiet; it was by a lake, or
maybe a river you were alert
as an otter and were suddenly born
like the evening star into wide
still worlds like this one you have found
again, for a moment, in the open.

william stafford

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