The Buff-Chested Grouse

THE BUFF-CHESTED GROUSE

I have spent my whole life doing
what I love.
Let's honor the quail who searches
so hard for food.
Here I am, playing flute in a cistern
like Joseph.

My genius amounts to persistence
in following
Elephants through the wind.
Sometimes the long vowels
Go on ahead and show us
where the road is.

Thand God for Jaufre Rudel who taught
even the Vikings the road of love.
We are incompetent, hopeless
Lovers, but we do play the shawm
in the wind.

It was only when I was out
in the fields, hiding
From the winds, that I understood
that what fell to pieces last night
could be whole this morning.

I don't know if you've heard
the buff-chested grouse
When he drums on an old log.
He is like Hafez
Repeating something he has heard
from his teacher.

Robert, I hope you're not bragging
in this poem.
Don't drag out the comparison
to Joseph.
We're just talking here
of feathers blown in the wind.

Robert Bly

Posted over on Wisdom Portal

— My Sentence Was A Thousand Years of Joy