The Colder The Air Poem by Elizabeth Bishop

The Colder The Air

Rating: 2.9


We must admire her perfect aim,
this huntress of the winter air
whose level weapon needs no sight,
if it were not that everywhere
her game is sure, her shot is right.
The least of us could do the same.

The chalky birds or boats stand still,
reducing her conditions of chance;
air's gallery marks identically
the narrow gallery of her glance.
The target-center in her eye
is equally her aim and will.

Time's in her pocket, ticking loud
on one stalled second. She'll consult
not time nor circumstance. She calls
on atmosphere for her result.
(It is this clock that later falls
in wheels and chimes of leaf and cloud.)

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Try’s stir ehrte her 11 November 2020

I like it it feels like i am floating. You should make some more poems

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Elizabeth Bishop

Elizabeth Bishop

Worcester, Massachusetts
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