Doug Anderson: South of Laramie
The cardinal red twig dogwood in bright snow.
The mountain.
This is knowledge that requires
no interpretation.
And especially does not demand
that I speak. Unless, like the man
who named the first bird,
a blue star aloft and singing,
made a sound: pajaro. Ouiseau. Chim.
Because he could not help himself.
And that is the way with love.
Speak only when you cannot help it.
However strange and vibrant the sound.
Copyright 2019 Doug Anderson
Like many of Doug Anderson’s poems, South of Laramie holds that twist of quiet surprise when I forget to breathe for just a moment. For me, the mark of a lovely poem.
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You’ve captured the power of poetry exactly. Thank you!
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