Classic Poem

1

The down drop of the blackbird,
The wing catch of arrested flight,
The stop midway and then off:
off for triangles, circles, loops
of new hieroglyphs —
This is April's way: a woman:
" O yes, I'm here again and your heart
knows I was coming. "

2

White pigeons rush at the sun,
A marathon of wing feats is on:
" Who most loves danger? Who most loves
wings? Who somersaults for God's sake
in the name of wing power
in the sun and blue
on an April Thursday? "
So ten winged heads, ten winged feet,
race their white forms over Elmhurst.
They go fast: once the ten together were
a feather of foam bubble, a chrysanthemum
whirl speaking to silver and azure.

3

The child is on my shoulders.
In the prairie moonlight the child's legs
hang over my shoulders.
She sits on my neck and I hear her calling
me a good horse.
She slides down — and into the moon silver of
a prairie stream
She throws a stone and laughs at the clug-clug.