Interim

A poem by Lola Ridge


The earth is motionless
And poised in space...
A great bird resting in its flight
Between the alleys of the stars.
It is the wind's hour off....
The wind has nestled down among the corn....
The two speak privately together,
Awaiting the whirr of wings.

Reader Comments

Tell us what you think of 'Interim' by Lola Ridge

comments powered by Disqus

Home | Search | About this website | Contact | Privacy Policy