Unwittingly began looking for Adrienne Rich poems, when I saw olivia_circe had posted her already today. Thankfully, the ones I've pulled are different, so we have an Adrienne kind of day. The glass has been falling all the afternoon, And knowing better than the instrument What winds are walking overhead, what zone Of grey unrest is moving across the land, I leave the book upon a pillowed chair And walk from window to closed window, watching Boughs strain against the sky And think again... read more
