Birth Day
Saturday I ran to Mytilene.
Bushes and grass along the glass-still way
Were all dabbled with rain
And the road reeled with shattered skies.
Towards noon an inky, petulant wind
Ravelled the pools, and rinsed the black grass round them.
Gulls were up in the late afternoon
And the air gleamed and billowed
Read Poem Bushes and grass along the glass-still way
Were all dabbled with rain
And the road reeled with shattered skies.
Towards noon an inky, petulant wind
Ravelled the pools, and rinsed the black grass round them.
Gulls were up in the late afternoon
And the air gleamed and billowed
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