This Morning…

I woke up with this poem by Robert Graves in my head. They occur to me sometimes, just as the wind rounds Ludlow, just as the furnace kicks up, just as I land my head on your shoulder.

She Tells Her Love

She tells her love while half asleep,
In the dark hours,
With half-words whispered low:
As Earth stirs in her winter sleep
And put out grass and flowers
Despite the snow,
Despite the falling snow.

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Filed under Poetry

One response to “This Morning…

  1. Pingback: Rambling « pairs of chairs

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