That Wrath (poem)

Posted by ractrose on 25 Jun 2018 in Art, Poems

He could not be accused of smiling still

Did (as in old speech) the sun hold prophecy

She held these signs

In her cloudless cabochon

On frosty ground no evil thing takes root

But here seed-heads of autumn grass

Boil, and the salt-estuary boils

Any bitterns with their bills up

Find camouflage uncovered by the dead

Reeds all of a grey color

Part of the trouble

Was threading out this road like a mountaineer

Under a sky that peers on shelterers

With orange rimmed eyes

Once or twice they drew near enough to speak

But they were strangers throwing out remarks

Do you feel now

That wrath will furnish all you wish to see

And more

Sanctuary at the shore or on the plain

Else at the center of the drain

That Wrath