Something positive in a negative world.
With Thanks to the Field Sparrow, Whose Voice is so Delicate and Humble
I do not live happily or comfortably
with the cleverness of our times.
The talk is all about bombs and blood.
This morning, in the fresh field,
I came upon a hidden nest.
It held four warm, speckled eggs.
I touched them.
Then went away softly,
having felt something more wonderful
than all the electricity in New York City.