A Poem For Saturday

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“For D.” by Christian Wiman:

Groans going all the way up a young tree
half–cracked and caught in the crook of another

pause. All around the hill-ringed, heavened pond
leaves shush themselves like an audience.

A cellular stillness, as of some huge attention
bearing down. May I hold your hand?

A clutch of mayflies banqueting on oblivion
writhes above the water like visible light.

(From Every Riven Thing © 2011 by Christian Wiman. Reprinted with kind permission from Farrar, Straus and Giroux, LLC. Photo by Flickr user heycountryboy)