There is something to be said for perseverance, tenacity.Thistles
for Persia
Under ledge, under tar, under fill
under curved blue stone of doorsteps,
under the aggregate of lakebed rock,
under loss and under hard words,
under steamrollers
under your heart,
it doesn't matter. They can live forever.
The seeds of thistles
push from nowhere, forming a rose of spikes
that spreads all summer until it
stands in a glory of
needles, blossoms, blazing
purple clubs and fists.
Friday, June 22, 2007
An observation
I heard Writer's Almanac on NPR as I was driving to Oklahoma City for a meeting and was very struck with today's poem:
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