423b2e
423b2e

8.26.2010

there is an evening coming in



There is an evening coming in
Across the fields, one never seen before,
That lights no lamps.

Silken it seems at a distance, yet
When it is drawn up over the knees and breast
It brings no comfort.

Where has the tree gone, that locked
Earth to the sky? What is under my hands,
That I cannot feel?

What loads my hands down?

~philip larkin

xxx

2 comments:

bulletholes said...

I do like larkin...so compact.

red dirt girl said...

Hi cowboy! I DO like the compactness of his images. It's a great poem. Good to see you, friend.

xxx