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Saturday, February 20, 2010

Silent River


Some time when the river is ice ask me
mistakes I have made. Ask me whether
what I have done is my life. Others
have come in their slow way into
my thought, and some have tried to help
or to hurt: ask me what difference
their strongest love or hate has made.

I will listen to what you say.
You and I can turn and look
at the silent river and wait. We know
the current is there, hidden; and there
are comings and goings from miles away
that hold the stillness exactly before us.
What the river says, that is what I say.
William Stafford
Photo taken in Englishtown,NJ

4 comments:

Elaine said...

Wow, nice shot of the full wing span..... was this Englishtown Lake?

Mike said...

The very idea of a bird is a symbol and a suggestion to the poet. A bird seems to be at the top of the scale, so vehement and intense his life. . . . The beautiful vagabonds, endowed with every grace, masters of all climes, and knowing no bounds—how many human aspirations are realised in their free, holiday-lives—and how many suggestions to the poet in their flight and song!

— John Burroughs

Moira said...

Beautiful shot! Well done!

Namnet said...

This is a great photo. I love the way the water is rippled.