listening to the wind

March 11, 2012

The Wind, the Sun and the Moon

BY ANNE STEVENSON

For weeks the wind has been talking to us,
Swearing, imploring, singing like a person.
Not a person, more the noise of a being might make
Searching for a body and a name. The sun
In its polished aurora rises late, then dazzles
Our eyes and days, pacing a bronze horizon
To a mauve bed in the sea. Light kindles the hills,
Though in the long shadow or Moelfre, winter
Won’t unshackle the dead house by the marsh.
Putting these words on paper after sunset
Alters the length and asperity of night.
By the fire, when the wind pauses, little is said.
Every phrase we unfold stands upright. Outside,
The visible cold, the therapy of moonlight.

By Anne Stevenson, “The Wind, the Sun, and the Moon” from Poems 1955-2005. Copyright © 2005 by Anne Stevenson. Reprinted with the permission of Bloodaxe Books Ltd. http://www.bloodaxebooks.com

Source: Poems 1955-2005 (Bloodaxe Books, 2005)
(Poem courtesy of The Poetry Foundation: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/180121#poem)
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