Wednesday, January 26, 2011


I think l may have writer's block - perhaps l've been away too long.


If only l could say
a new thing, a thing
l've never said before.

Something small as a spoon
or big as a landscape:
as new as a baby.

Hope appears before me, flourishing
as a rosebush.
I pick one of its flowers.

And l look for what resembles
that spoon, that landscape,
that baby.

Nothing there. But the air
smells like a wild rose.
How pleasant its scent.

Norman MacCaig Dec 1988

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I relish, cause I found just what I used to be taking a
look for. You've ended my four day long hunt! God Bless you man. Have a nice day. Bye

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