|
Fast By Heather McHugh I love a rock, for holding so much down (itself, for example, its grounds). From where we stand it seems to set loose Alps of cloud above; below, the lilies range around its late, light-catching faces. Lawns run right up to its settledness: Your Highness! buzz the grasses and Your Heaviness! (their blades ablaze). For they must come and go, attracted now to this, now that, while it is always going---going with the monolithic given, given every day to love (in winter as in heat) only the planet's plunge through heaven. |