Monday, May 7, 2012

Poetry Monday


Over this Common a kestrel treads air
till the earth says mouse or vole.  Far below
two lovers walking by the pond seem unaware.

She feeds the ducks.  He wants her, tells her so
as she half-smiles and stands slightly apart.
He loves me, loves me not with each deft throw.

It could last a year, she thinks, possibly two
and then crumble like stale bread.  The kestrel flies
across the sun as he swears his love is true

and, darling, forever.  Suddenly the earth cries
Now and death drops from above like a stone.
A couple turn and see a strange bird rise.

Into the sky the kestrel climbs alone
and later she might write or he might phone.

And if you like this poem do yourself a favor and read Bill Knott's appreciation on his prose blog here.

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