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User Rating:
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8.0
/10
(8 votes)
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All day the blanket snapped and swelled
on the line, roused by a hot spring wind....
From there it witnessed the first sparrow,
early flies lifting their sticky feet,
and a green haze on the south-sloping hills.
Clouds rose over the mountain....At dusk
I took the blanket in, and we slept,
restless, under its fragrant weight.
Jane Kenyon
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Monday, January 13, 2003 |
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Read poems about / on: spring, rose, green, wind, sleep
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Comments about this poem (Wash
by
Jane Kenyon
) |
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MARK L. BERRYANN (11/23/2009 1:03:00 PM)
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What's interesting to me is the fact that you must have been very concerned with your blanket to have known its morning so vividly described. This blanket holds a sense of security and kindship for the poet. And that is sweet poetic comfort.10
Mark
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