Posted: Wednesday, March 31, 2010 | | Labels:

morning star

It is tomorrow now
In this black incredible grass.
The mountains with luminous discipline
Are coming out of the blackness
To take their places one in front of the other.
I know where you are and where the river is.
You are near enough to be a far horizon.
Your body breathing in a silver edge
Of a long black mountain and the morning star.
Before we cannot speak again
There will be time to use the morning star
For anything, like brushing it against
A pentstemon,
Or nearly closing the lashes of our lids
As children do to make the star come down.
Or I can say to myself as if I were
A wanderer being asked where he had been
Among the hills: 
“There was a range of mountains
Once I loved until I could not breathe.”

Thomas Hornsby Ferril


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