Over my head, I see the bronze butterfly,
Asleep on the black trunk,
Blowing like a leaf in green shadow.
Down the ravine behind the empty house,
The cowbells follow one another
Into the distances of the afternoon.
To my right,
In a field of sunlight between two pines,
The droppings of last year’s horses
Blaze up into golden stones.
I lean back, as the evening darkens and comes on.
A chicken hawk floats over, looking for home.
I have wasted my life.
By James Wright
To find out more about the poet James Wright, see:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Wright_(poet)
I love the meditative nature of this poem. I don't agree with the last line, but perhaps he is being ironic. Moments of reflection and contemplation of beauty are never wasted, I feel.
I love the meditative nature of this poem. I don't agree with the last line, but perhaps he is being ironic. Moments of reflection and contemplation of beauty are never wasted, I feel.
That last line is a kick in the head! Great images, wonderful flow of words. But yes, that last line caught me by surprise. I'll remember this one!
ReplyDeleteThe last line is a kicker alright! My sense is that the poet's struck by how much of his life he's spent being "busy" - not being present to what's going on around him. Robert Bly has a great poem, "After Long Busyness", that touches on this theme too. You can find it here; http://www.shigeku.org/xlib/lingshidao/waiwen/bly.htm
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