Tuesday, February 24, 2015

Gallop: A Poem by Idaho Poet Robert Wrigley


The yellow pines thrash their manes

and rear. You can almost hear

beneath their stationary hooves

the billion root-hairs clench and click,

the nicker and neigh, the nowhere wind

goes by on the way to nowhere else,

bringing joy and hysteria to the trees.

In the interludes between gusts

they shuffle and sway then stand

almost immobile in the downpour

of shed needles—at last only a single

branch bobbing like a twitched flank,

then stillness, the sound of what was

fading in the east, the sound of what’s coming

coming nearer from the west. They grow

restive. They wait until it comes

and gallop in their stillness again.

A poem by Robert Wrigley, who has published ten books of poems, including most recently Anatomy of Melancholy and Other Poems (Penguin 2013) and, The Church of Omnivorous Light (Bloodaxe Books, 2013). He teaches at the University of Idaho and lives in the woods, near Moscow, with his wife, the Pulitzer-nominated and best-selling author, Kim Barnes. I was privileged to have had him as my Introduction to Literature teacher way back in 1985.

1 comment:

  1. I love that poem. I was not familiar with him so thanks VERY much for sharing.


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