Friday, January 7, 2011

The Swirls that Lead to the Dust of the Road

I'm not exactly sure what this ornamental grass is called, but I like its stiff stalks and the fluff and swirls of its seed pods.  I was thinking about how strong the wind would have to be if these seeds were going to blow anywhere, and then started thinking about tumbleweed and how it looks when it's rolling around in the desert sand, and that reminded me of dust.

And then...I thought of a poem by W.S. Merwin.  It's called To the Dust of the Road.

And in the morning you are up again
with the way leading through you for a while
longer if the wind is motionless when
the cars reach where the asphalt ends a mile
or so below the main road and the wave
you rise into is different every time
and you are one with it until you have
made your way up to the top of your climb
and brightened in that moment of that day
and then you turn as when you rose before
in fire or wind from the ends of the earth
to pause here and you seem to drift away
on into nothing to lie down once more
until another breath brings you to birth

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