Friday, November 16, 2012

My Grandmother's Ghost By James Wright

She skimmed the yellow water like a moth,
Trailing her feet across the shallow stream;
She saw the berries, paused and sampled them
where a slight spider cleaned his narrow tooth.
Light in the air, she fluttered up the path,
So delicated to shun the leaves and damp,
Like some young wife, holding a slender lamp
to find her stray child, or the moon, or both.
.
Even before she reached the empty house,
She beat her wings ever so lightly, rose
Followed a beee where apples blew like snow;
And then, forgetting what she wanted there,
Too full of blossom and green light to care,
She hurried to the ground, and slipped below!

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