LXXXV
Don September 29th, 2009
LXXXV
I spooked this guy on a walk one summer afternoon, and he ended up in New Oxford Review, Jan.-Feb., 1981, as a result.
Flash! Flushed, it rushes and, flurrying, flies,
No covey, but one lone quail, across the grass,
While, fluttering likes its flight, the notes it cries
Float flute-trilled thrills, through back the hushed air pass.
Oh fleet flinger of wing-beats into space,
O sweet singer to carol the quickening dawn,
One breathless, trembling moment saw you race
The sun to the distant trees, and you were gone.
Hopkins held all Nature was news of God:
Free windhover, caged lark, unleaving grove,
Stippled trout, generations that trod and trod,
And I’d thought, “What treasure if true, then, Nature’s trove!”
And standing there, startled and shaken by your shimmering flight,
I knew beyond all doubt that he was right.
Donald T. Williams, PhD
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