This poem is taken from PN Review 7, Volume 5 Number 3, April - June 1979.
Two PoemsTHE MORNING
I do not know what the mist signifies
When it comes, not swirling,
Gathering itself like briony under my window
The trees stand out of it,
Wading, you might say,
Have their dark tresses trailing in the water
Which began the world.
...
The page you have requested is restricted to subscribers only. Please enter your username and password and click on 'Continue'.
If you have forgotten your username and password, please enter the email address you used when you joined. Your login details will then be emailed to the address specified.
If you are not a subscriber and would like to enjoy the 285 issues containing over 11,500 poems, articles, reports, interviews and reviews, why not subscribe to the website today?
If you have forgotten your username and password, please enter the email address you used when you joined. Your login details will then be emailed to the address specified.
If you are not a subscriber and would like to enjoy the 285 issues containing over 11,500 poems, articles, reports, interviews and reviews, why not subscribe to the website today?
