I walk with William Wordsworth
as he walks his field, his field
of daffodils, a yellow sea
moving in the wind invisible.
I walk with William Wordsworth,
and I ask him who planted
this yellow sea waving
in the wind, these ten thousand
thrusting beauty upwards. He
didn’t speak, he answered
with a smile, his last.
This poem is submitted to Open Link Night at dVerse Poets. To see more posts, please visit the site. The links will be live at 2 p.m. Central time today.
Photograph by Petr Kratochvil via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.
7 comments:
*love. :)
A college professor of mine just gushed over WW, and it wasn't until I was older than I appreciated his poetry.
Why is that?
Rhetorical.
Thanks for taking me back --
a lovely smile it was ...
Love this, Glynn- Each word you have written is wonderful and wispy.
nice...would be a cool walk to take...and into beauty...ha, i like his response to you as well...
When I read many of the greats... Mary Oliver, Billy Collins, Wordsworth, Rumi, Ghandi... I feel as if they are talking to me, as if we are conversing. Your poem reminds me of such times.
http://www.kimnelsonwrites.com/2013/04/09/complete-package/
Beautiful poem Glynn
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