Thursday, June 28, 2007
PT: A Summer Poem (especially for Wendy)
How beautifully the child I carry on my back
teaches me to become a horse.
How quickly I learn to stay
between shafts, blinders, and whips,
working the plough
and the wagon loaded with hay,
or to break out of trot and run
til we're flying through cold streams.
He who kicks my commands
knows I am ten times his size
and that I am servant to small hands.
It is in mowed fields I move best,
watching the barn grow toward me
the child quiet, his sleep piled like hay
on my back as we slip over the dark hill
and I carry the sun away.
--Nancy Willard, "Water Walker."