I hope everyone has had a good week so far and have good plans for the weekend.
My chosen poem this week is by the American poet and short story writer Elizabeth Bishop (1911-1979).
Thunder And suddenly the giants tired of play. - With huge, rough hands they flung the gods' gold balls And silver harps and mirrors at the walls Of Heaven, and trod, ashamed, where lay The loveliness of flowers. Frightened Day On white feet ran from out the temple halls, The blundering dark was filled with great war-calls, And Beauty, shamed, slunk silently away. Be quiet, little wind among the leaves That turn pale faces to the coming storm. Be quiet, little foxes in your lairs, And birds and mice be still - a giant grieves For his forgotten might. Hark now the warm And heavy stumbling down the leaden stairs! Elizabeth Bishop