POEMS
Robert Bly
ANT HEAPS ON THE ROAD
It is good to stare at old wooden doors after working,
the cough the ant family makes in ground,
the blackish stain around screwheads.
How much labor is needed to live life!
Something turns its shoulders. When we do work
holes appear in the mountainside, no labor at all.
WINDS
How much energy is in the weeping willow
blown by October winds!
The pines hold in their energy,
and the little maples long for old men.
