BY THE FIELD Poem by Esther Kinsky

BY THE FIELD



The women at the window
each in her house her brow
on the cracked frame or
on the trembling pane or her
hand held to her brow against the sun
which is low in the sky
already winter-wan and
not very reliable.

They look out and eyes almost
shut they see the shadows
each her own
bluish and delicate
lying on the ground
the ears of corn
scattered like stones
among the woody stalks.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success