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THIS IS MY LOT, BEAUTIFUL STRANGERS.
Truly one of Hughes' work of art that probably does not even receive as much response as the other poems in his collection, but, this is beautiful to me. not diebetically poignant, but the subtle revelation of his love for his baby girl definitely shows how Hughes is indeed as warm as human. Full Moon and Little Frieda A cool small evening shrunk to a dog bark and the clank of a bucket - And you listening. A spider's web, tense for the dew's touch. A pail lifted, still and brimming - mirror To tempt a first star to a tremor. Crows are going home in the lane there, looping the hedges with their warm wreaths of breath - A dark river of blood, many boulders, Balancing unspilled milk. 'Moon!' you cry suddenly, 'Moon! Moon!' The moon has stepped back like an artist gazing amazed at a work That points at him amazed.
TonFlyingHigh!12:38 AM *** |
Behind The Wheel; 
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