18 April 2009

Children in a Field by Angela Shaw

[NP's NOTE: This poem makes me think of J. D. Salinger's Catcher in the Rye.]

They don't wade in so much as they are taken.
Deep in the day, in the deep of the field,
every current in the grasses whispers hurry
hurry, every yellow spreads its perfume
like a rumor, impelling them further on.
It is the way of girls.  It is the sway
of their dresses in the summer trance-
light, their bare calves already far-gone
in green.  What songs will they follow?
Whatever the wood warbles, whatever storm
or harm the border promises, whatever
calm.  Let them go.  Let them go traceless
through the high grass and into the willow-
blur, traceless across the lean blue glint
of the river, to the long dark bodies
of the conifers, and over the welcoming
threshold of nightfall.


  1. This poem reminds me that I've been reading too many paleontology books. The second I saw the word "conifers," I immediately started thinking Carboniferous period! LOL.

    Wonderful poem!

  2. Hrm. I think you need to read some fiction, m'dear.


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