But not this one,
its pale under wings
flapping and gliding, soaring
on the updraft,
the rise of it, oh,
the surprise of its shape.
How easily the world
rewards our attention,
how easily I
lose track.
September 9, 2016 by Rosemerry
But not this one,
its pale under wings
flapping and gliding, soaring
on the updraft,
the rise of it, oh,
the surprise of its shape.
How easily the world
rewards our attention,
how easily I
lose track.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged attention, hawk, poem, poetry | 3 Comments
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That double edge at the end, losing focus and losing sight of, the hawk says it all.
http://100.best-poems.net/world-always-us.html
The World is always with us (never mind Wordsworth’s, “too much with us).
So right, eduardo! r
From: “comment-reply@wordpress.com” Reply-To: Date: Saturday, September 10, 2016 at 12:39 PM To: Rosemerry Trommer Subject: [A Hundred Falling Veils] Comment: “How Many Hawks Have I Missed”
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