The Balance Wheel, by Anne Sexton

Where I waved at the sky
And waited your love through a February sleep,
I saw birds swinging in, watched them multiply
Into a tree, weaving on a branch, cradling a keep
In the arms of April sprung from the south to occupy
This slow lap of land, like cogs of some balance wheel.
I saw them build the air, with that motion birds feel.

Where I wave at the sky
And understand love, knowing our August heat,
I see birds pulling past the dim frosted thigh
Of Autumn, unlatched from the nest, and wing-beat
For the south, making their high dots across the sky,
Like beauty spots marking a still perfect cheek.
I see them bend the air, slipping away, for what birds seek.

I saw them build the air … 

I do love the way poets think, the way they see the world move and hear it breathe when ordinary folk might be preoccupied with the inconvenience of time, or weather. I can’t speak for Ms. Sexton’s troubles, and the pain that led her to stop writing and end herself — I am saddened by her end, but can do nothing for her. All I can do is listen to her words and marvel over the way my mouth waters.

My contribution to APAD, Day 2 is Beware. As with most of the work I post here, constructive criticism is welcome. I approach writing poetry, most often, as an exercise in learning how to explore, how to process. When I read, I want to dress up in the emotions of others and sometimes claim them as my own.

What are y’all reading & writing?