For trees and birds, two of my favorite things, from one of Plath’s kind angels of influence, and from The Far Field.
from The Tree, the Bird / by Theodore Roethke
Uprose, uprose, the stony field uprose,
And every snail dipped toward me its pure horn.
The sweet light met me as I walked toward
A small voice calling from a drifting cloud.
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Daily Poetry Fragments {Semi-Daily} 