Thom Gunn
Considering The Snail
The snail pushes through a green Night, for the grass is heavy With water and meets over The bright path he makes, where rain Has darkened the earth’s dark. He Moves in a wood
My Sad Captains
One by one they appear in The darkness: a few friends, and A few with historical Names. How late they start to shine! But before they fade they stand Perfectly embodied, all The past
On The Move 'Man, You Gotta Go
The blue jay scuffling in the bushes follows Some hidden purpose, and the gush of birds That spurts across the field, the wheeling swallows, Have nested in the trees and undergrowth. Seeking their instinct,