Early in the morning the hermit wakes, hearing
The roots of the fir tree stir beneath his floor.
Someone is there. That strength buried
In earth carries up the summer world. When
A man loves a woman, he nourishes her.
Dancers strew the lawn with the light of their feet.
When a woman loves the earth, she nourishes it.
Earth nourishes what no one can see.
~ Robert Bly
from Talking into the Ear of a Donkey
1 comments:
it is an unspoken language, isn't it, this truth, this connectedness, this beautiful arching balance? he writes all around it and yet creates something in his palm that he can tip toward us and say, here, look. this poem gives me hope. it is like a kiss that asks for nothing.
xo
erin
Post a Comment