Sandpiper Poem by Elizabeth Bishop

Sandpiper

Rating: 3.4


The roaring alongside he takes for granted,
and that every so often the world is bound to shake.
He runs, he runs to the south, finical, awkward,
in a state of controlled panic, a student of Blake.

The beach hisses like fat. On his left, a sheet
of interrupting water comes and goes
and glazes over his dark and brittle feet.
He runs, he runs straight through it, watching his toes.

- Watching, rather, the spaces of sand between them
where (no detail too small) the Atlantic drains
rapidly backwards and downwards. As he runs,
he stares at the dragging grains.

The world is a mist. And then the world is
minute and vast and clear. The tide
is higher or lower. He couldn't tell you which.
His beak is focussed; he is preoccupied,

looking for something, something, something.
Poor bird, he is obsessed!
The millions of grains are black, white, tan, and gray
mixed with quartz grains, rose and amethyst.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
April G 08 December 2017

Elliot C brought me here!

3 0 Reply

A very delightful piece of Elizabeth Bishop. A masterpiece

5 5 Reply
Michael Morgan 27 February 2015

Thank God for Elizabeth Bishop. One of his more amusing creations.

3 12 Reply
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Elizabeth Bishop

Elizabeth Bishop

Worcester, Massachusetts
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