National Poetry Month, Day 3
Good Friday Morning in Maryland
Birdsong courses through the eye
That I call window
The wind’s eye , gritty with winter dust
And Spring beginning .
The Spanish call it Ventana
Which also sounds like wind
To me.
The Danish call it Vindue,
Which sounds to me like Vishnu,
Preserver of the Universe.
Italians call it Finestra,
The end of the stars,
The end of the stratosphere.
The French call it Fenetre
The Germans call it Fenster
In which I see fences,
In which I hear excited air
Flying through the fens,
Licking the marshy grasses.
No comments:
Post a Comment