Gedicht
Kay Ryan
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A blue staincreeps across
the deep pile
of the evergreens.
From inside the
forest it seems
like an interior
matter, something
wholly to do
with trees, a color
passed from one
to another, a
requirement
to which they
submit unflinchingly
like soldiers or
brave people
getting older.
Then the sun
comes back and
it’s totally over.
© 2010, Kay Ryan
From: Poetry, Vol. 195, No. 5, February
Publisher: Poetry, Chicago
From: Poetry, Vol. 195, No. 5, February
Publisher: Poetry, Chicago
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CLOUD
A blue staincreeps across
the deep pile
of the evergreens.
From inside the
forest it seems
like an interior
matter, something
wholly to do
with trees, a color
passed from one
to another, a
requirement
to which they
submit unflinchingly
like soldiers or
brave people
getting older.
Then the sun
comes back and
it’s totally over.
From: Poetry, Vol. 195, No. 5, February
CLOUD
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