Waxwings Poem by Robert Francis

Waxwings

Rating: 2.5


Four Tao philosophers as cedar waxwings
chat on a February berry bush
in sun, and I am one.

Such merriment and such sobriety--
the small wild fruit on the tall stalk--
was this not always my true style?

Above an elegance of snow, beneath
a silk-blue sky a brotherhood of four
birds. Can you mistake us?

To sun, to feast, and to converse
and all together--for this I have abandoned
all my other lives.


Submitted by Larry Bole

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Joe Wiercinski 01 February 2018

To hear artificial intelligence used to read a favorite poem is shocking and offensive. Surely you understand that poetry requires a human's voice, not a soulless imitation of one.

0 0 Reply
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Robert Francis

Robert Francis

Pennsylvania / United States
Close
Error Success