My Doubts on Going to Visit a New Friend

I'm glad that a white horse grazes in that meadow

Outside your kitchen window; even when it rains

There's still someone there.  And it rains often

In the mountains.

I have to ask myself what kind of friend I can be.

You'll want to know whether I do dishes,

Or know my share of stories, or any Wallace

Stevens poems be heart.

I know that I won't talk all the time, or steal

Money, or complain about my room,

Or undermine you, or speak disparagingly

Of your family.

I am afraid there'll be a moment when 

I fail you, friend; I will turn slightly

Away, our eyes will not meet, and out in the field

There will be no one.

Robert Bly

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