In a no-panic break from my no-panic Advent, I am spending a few quiet moments with Billy Collins.This poem is not related to winter, December, Advent, Christmas, or any current theme or obsession of mine. It's just a lovely little piece that says so much, in very few words.
The last line is perfection. The poem is short, but stay with it -- it's not about the suburbs.
It's about her.
Her
by Billy Collins
There is no noisier place than the suburbs,
someone once said to me
as we were walking along a fairway,
and every day is delighted to offer fresh evidence:
the chainsaw, the leaf-blower blowing
one leaf around an enormous house with columns,
(read the rest of it here.)
The whole Poetry Friday round-up is at Wild Rose Reader.
4 comments:
Does this man ever write a bad poem?
It brought back memories of having bathroom tile laid in our master bath by two Hispanic men. Unfortunately, they kind of messed up, so we called them Jose and Hose B. Now, if I had been just a little more patient, I might have heard them discussing "her," and would have been more forgiving.
Happy Holidays, Karen!
Thanks for the blessed and beautiful break!
Wow.
I like the theme of just... a moment of quiet. That has to do with Advent even if this isn't very seasonal. And I love that the other one doesn't answer -- he's keeping it all in his heart.
The garbage truck reverse beeps here at 6:00 AM. Grrrr. So not Advent like. But this poem? Perfect. Thank you for another Collins gift.
Post a Comment