![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2i1OKEnPzdQ8V_DsT0HPLOmS4hF0-STlTh3y1eavB-qr5iQZ-HQkvxf-HASjkEWX4Rp9lSLPe-mC5qiCrmgX3pcetA_F1TntNCYlsSJiP78njizJDEmPSVRLwTdVIzJf4ktCDCWsjWCr6/s280/Mountain-Meadow.jpg)
From the Gradual Grass
Imagine a voice calling,
"There is a voice now calling,"
or maybe a blasting cry,
"Walls are falling,"
as it makes walls be falling.
Then from the gradual grass,
too serious to be only noise--
whatever it is grass makes,
making words, a voice:
"Destruction is ending," this voice
Is promising quiet, silence,
by lasting forever grows to sound
endlessly from the world's end,
promising, calling;
imagine,
that voice is calling.
William Stafford
Posted over on William Stafford Archives
No comments:
Post a Comment