The earth is motionless
And poised in space…
A great bird resting in its flight
Between the alleys of the stars.
It is the wind’s hour off….
The wind has nestled down among the corn….
The two speak privately together,
Awaiting the whirr of wings.
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Comments about this poem (Interim by Lola Ridge )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
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