Whether or not shadows are of the substance
such is the expectation I can
wait to surprise my vision as a wind
enters the valley: sudden and silent
in its arrival, drawing to full cry
the whorled invisibilities, glassen towers
freighted with sky-chaff; that, as barnstorming
powers, rammack the small
orchard; that well-steaded oaks
ride stolidly, that rake the light-leafed ash,
that glowing yew trees, cumbrous, heave aside.
Amidst and abroad tumultuous lumina,
regents, reagents, cloud-fĂȘted, sun-ordained,
fly tally over hedgerows, across fields.
On Seeing The Wind At Hope Mansell
Geoffrey Hill
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Poem topics: cloud, light, sky, sun, wind, wait, small, silent, valley, vision, substance, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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