Having spent this past week in the woods - literally - I thought this poem appropriate. My brother in law and his wife live about 14 miles outside of Traverse City, in the middle of the beautiful Michigan woods. We saw some swift things while I was there, mostly deer. Anything slow got run over and thankfully we didn't see a lot of those. The Boardman, so beautiful, still runs along their land and brought back wonderful memories of tubing down the Boardman, back when our kids were all still home and we did crazier things than I do now (not much crazier, but crazy nonetheless!).
SWIFT THINGS ARE BEAUTIFUL
By
Elizabeth Coatsworth
Swift
things are beautiful:
Swallows
and deer,
And
lightning that falls
Bright-veined
and clear,
Rivers
and meteors,
Wind
in the wheat,
The
strong-withered horse,
The
runner’s sure feet.
And
slow things are beautiful:
The
closing of day,
The
pause of the wave
That
curves downward to spray,
The
ember that crumbles,
The
opening flower,
And
the ox that moves on
In
the quiet of power.
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