Friday, April 18, 2014
From The Way It Is: new & Selected Poems, by William Stafford
HOW IT BEGAN
They struggled their legs and blindly loved, those puppies
inside my jacket as I walked through town. They crawled
for warmth and licked each other -- their poor mother
dead, and one kind boy to save them. I spread
my arms over their world and hurried along.
At Ellen's place I knocked and waited -- the tumult
invading my sleeves, all my jacket alive.
When she came to the door we tumbled -- black, white,
gray, hungry -- all over the living room floor
together, rolling, whining, happy and blind.