SUMMER MORNING by CHARLES SIMIC: I love to stay in bed All morning, Covers thrown off, naked, Eyes closed, listening. Outside they are opening Their primers In the little school Of the cornfield. Theres a smell of damp hay, Of horses, laziness, Summer sky and eternal life. I know all the dark places Where the sun hasnt reached yet, Where the last cricket Has just hushed, anthills Where it sounds like its raining: Slumbering spiders spinning wedding dresses. I pass over the farmhouses Where the little mouths open to suck, Barnyards where a man, naked to the waist, Washes his face and shoulders with a hose, Where the dishes begin to rattle in the kitchen. The good tree with its voice Of a mountain stream Knows my steps. It, too, hushes. I stop and listen: Somewhere close by A stone cracks a knuckle, Another turns over in its sleep. I hear a butterfly stirring Inside a caterpillar. I hear the dust talking Of last nights storm. Farther ahead, someone Even more silent Passes over the grass Without bending it. And all of a sudden In the midst of that quiet, It seems possible To live simply on this earth.
Posted on: Wed, 26 Mar 2014 19:58:13 +0000
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