Hiroko sent me this poem by Charles Simic from her poetry page. Simic was one of my poetry professor's favorite poets, except he (the professor) always preferred Simic's crazy poems over poems like this one. I love this for the humour in the first lines and the mood--it reminds me of early winter mornings in Boston. I stole the quote from the biography on Simic on the poets.org site.
"Truth, they never get tired of reiterating, is not something that already exists in the world, but something that needs to be rediscovered almost daily."
Pigeons at Dawn
Extraordinary efforts are being made
To hide things from us, my friend.
Some stay up into the wee hours
To search their souls.
Others undress each other in darkened rooms.
The creaky old elevator
Took us down to the icy cellar first
To show us a mop and a bucket
Before it deigned to ascend again
With a sigh of exasperation.
Under the vast, early-dawn sky
The city lay silent before us.
Everything on hold:
Rooftops and water towers,
Clouds and wisps of white smoke.
We must be patient, we told ourselves,
See if the pigeons will coo now
For the one who comes to her window
To feed them angel cake,
All but invisible, but for her slender arm.
Copyright © by Charles Simic. From My Noiseless Entourage.
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