Yvor Winters

(1900 - 1968 / United States)

Alone


I, one who never speaks,
Listened days in summer trees,
Each day a rustling leaf.

Then, in time, my unbelief
Grew like my running -
My own eyes did not exist,
When I struck I never missed.

Noon, felt and far away -
My brain is a thousand bees.

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003

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