“Why does the field begin to ripple | before the wind arrives in whispers, | as if there were a communication, | as if the landscape were poorly dubbed, | and we weren’t expected to notice?” ~ J. Allyn Rosser, from “As If”

Percheron Draft Horse Grazingby The Gut (FCC)
Percheron Draft Horse Grazing
by The Gut (FCC)

                   

Two for Tuesday: Pastorals

At Night

it is best
to focus your eyes
a little off to one side;
it is better to know things
drained of their color, to fathom
the black horses cropping
at winter grass,
their white jaws that move
in steady rotation, a sweet sound.

And when they file off to shelter
under the trees
you will find the dark circles of snow
pushed aside, earth opening
its single, steadfast gaze:
towards stars ticking by, one by one, overhead,
the given world flaming precisely out of its frame.

~ Jane Hirshfield

                   
Lamb, Ickworth Park, UK by Karen Roe FCC
Lamb in Ickworth Park, UK
by Karen Roe (FCC)

Sheep in Fog

The hills step off into whiteness.
People or stars
Regard me sadly, I disappoint them.

The train leaves a line of breath.
O slow
Horse the colour of rust,

Hooves, dolorous bells—
All morning the
Morning has been blackening,

A flower left out.
My bones hold a stillness, the far
Fields melt my heart.

They threaten
To let me through to a heaven
Starless and fatherless, a dark water.

~ Sylvia Plath