My feet are locked upon the rough bark.
It took the whole of Creation
To produce my foot, my each feather:
Now I hold Creation in my foot
Or fly up, and revolve it all slowly -
I kill where I please because it is all mine.
Nothing has changed since I began.
I am going to keep things like this.
Ted Hughes
A gloomy afternoon at Wicken, with the kestrel keeping it like it is.
No comments:
Post a Comment