On the stiff twig up there <br />Hunches a wet black rook <br />Arranging and rearranging its feathers in the rain- <br />I do not expect a miracle <br />Or an accident <br /> <br />To set the sight on fire <br />In my eye, nor seek <br />Any more in the desultory weather some design, <br />But let spotted leaves fall as they fall <br />Without ceremony, or portent. <br /> <br />Although, I admit, I desire, <br />Occasionally, some backtalk <br />From the mute sky, I can't honestly complain: <br />A certain minor light may still <br />Lean incandescent <br /> <br />Out of kitchen table or chair <br />As if a celestial burning took <br />Possession of the most obtuse objects now and then -- <br />Thus hallowing an interval <br />Otherwise inconsequent <br /> <br />By bestowing largesse, honor <br />One might say love. At any rate, I now walk <br />Wary (for it could happen <br />Even in this dull, ruinous landscape); sceptical <br />Yet politic, ignorant <br /> <br />Of whatever angel any choose to flare <br />Suddenly at my elbow. I only know that a rook <br />Ordering its black feathers can so shine <br />As to seize my senses, haul <br />My eyelids up, and grant <br /> <br />A brief respite from fear <br />Of total neutrality. With luck, <br />Trekking stubborn through this season <br />Of fatigue, I shall <br />Patch together a content <br /> <br />Of sorts. Miracles occur. <br />If you care to call those spasmodic <br />Tricks of radiance <br />Miracles. The wait's begun again, <br />The long wait for the angel, <br /> <br />For that rare, random descent.<br /><br />Sylvia Plath<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/black-rook-in-rainy-weather/
