Wodwo
What am I?
Nosing here, turning leaves
Following a faint stain on the air to the river's edgeI enter water.
Who am I to
The glassy grain of water looking upward I see the
Of the river above me upside down very
What am I doing here in mid-air?
Why do I findthis frog so interesting as I inspect its most secretinterior and make it my own?
Do these weedsknow me and name me to each other have theyseen me before do I fit in their world?
I seemseparate from the ground and not rooted but droppedout of nothing casually I've no threadsfastening me to anything I can go anywhereI seem to have been given the freedomof this place what am I then?
And pickingbits of bark off this rotten stump gives meno pleasure and it's no use so why do I do itme and doing that have coincided very
But what shall I be called am I the firsthave I an owner what shape am I whatshape am I am I huge if I goto the end on this way past these trees and past these treestill I get tired that's touching one wall of mefor the moment if I sit still how everythingstops to watch me I suppose I am the exact centrebut there's all this what is it rootsroots roots roots and here's the wateragain very queer but I'll go on looking
Ted Hughes
Other author posts
The Harvest Moon
The flame-red moon, the harvest moon, Rolls along the hills, gently bouncing, A vast balloon, Till it takes off, and sinks
Crows Fall
When Crow was white he decided the sun was too white He decided it glared much too whitely He decided to attack it and defeat it He got his strength up flush and in full glitter
September
We sit late, watching the dark slowly unfold: No clock counts this When kisses are repeated and the arms hold There is no telling where time is It is midsummer: the leaves hang big and still:
Old Age Gets Up
Stirs its ashes and embers, its burnt An eye powdered over, half melted and solid Ideas that At the first touch of
