Sunday, January 27, 2013

Your Sunday Poem

One of my favorite poets, Billy Collins, from his book "Picnic, Lightning," available in paperback in your local store. Support your favorite poets.  Buy one of their books today.

Looking West

Just beyond the flower garden at the end of the lawn
the curvature of the earth begins,

sloping down from there
over the length of the country

and the smooth surface of the Pacific
before it continues across the convex rice fields of Asia

and, rising, inclines over europe
and the bulging, boat-dotted waters of the

finally reaching the other side of the house
where it comes up behind a yellow grove of forsythia

near a dilapidated picnic table,
then passes unerringly under the spot

where I am standing, hands in my pockets,
feet planted firmly on the ground.


Sewertoons AKA Lynette Tornatzky said...

Billy Collins never disappoints. Oh so brainy wrapped in simple he is!

Churadogs said...

He always baits then zings, lures then thwacks, like a zen monk who wandered around behind a row of meditating monks thwacking on the head with a spoon in order to remind them to "pay closer attention."

Alon Perlman said...

This poem ranges on all scales and ends gracefully at the beginning and then some. He effortlessly spans the globe. And accessible.Thanks