The moon drops one or two feathers into the fiels.
The dark wheat listens.
Be still.
Now.
There they are, the moon’s young, trying
Their wings.
Between trees, a slender woman lifts up the lovely shadow
Of her face, and now she steps into the air, now she is gone
Wholly, into the air.
I stand alone by an elder tree, I do not dare breathe
Or move.
I listen.
The wheat leans back toward its own darkness,
And I lean toward mine.
(James Wright)
More Poetry from James Wright:
James Wright Poems based on Topics: Nature, Faces, Youth, Listening- The Lambs on the Boulder (James Wright Poems)
- Sappho (James Wright Poems)
- A Secret Gratitude (James Wright Poems)
- The Minneapolis Poem (James Wright Poems)
- Bologna: A Poem About Gold (James Wright Poems)
- A Way To Make A Living (James Wright Poems)