Personal anthology: W. S. Merwin

I have a scintillating weekend ahead of me. Taxes. Statistics homework. That’s pretty much the shape of it, though there may be some Blackadder as a reward for getting the taxes done, if I have time.

So, until I return, have a poem:

Rain Travel

I wake in the dark and remember
it is the morning when I must start
by myself on the journey
I lie listening to the black hour
before dawn and you are
still asleep beside me while
around us the trees full of night lean
hushed in their dream that bears
us up asleep and awake then I hear
drops falling one by one into
the sightless leaves and I
do not know when they began but
all at once there is no sound but rain
and the stream below us roaring
away into the rushing darkness

— W. S. Merwin, from Travels

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