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July 3rd, 2015 - we have 234 poets, 8,025 poems and 293,174 comments.
Billy Collins - Directions

You know the brick path in the back of the house,
the one you see from the kitchen window, 
the one that bends around the far end of the garden
where all the yellow primroses are?
And you know how if you leave the path
and walk into the woods you come 
to a heap of rocks, probably pushed
down during the horrors of the Ice Age,
and a grove of tall hemlocks, dark green now
against the light-brown fallen leaves?
And farther on, you know
the small footbridge with the broken railing
and if you go beyond the you arrive
at the bottom of sheep's head hill?
Well, if you start climbing, and you
might have to grab on to a sapling
when the going gets steep,
you will eventually come to a long stone 
ridge with a border of pine trees
which is a high as you can go
and a good enough place to stop.

The best time for this is late afternoon
en the sun strobes through
the columns of trees as you are hiking up,
and when you find an agreeable rock
to sit on, you will be able to see
the light pouring down into the woods
and breaking into the shapes and tones
of things and you will hear nothing 
but a sprig of a birdsong or leafy
falling of a cone or t through the trees,
and if this is your day you might even 
spot a hare or feel the wing-beats of geese
driving overhead toward some destination.

But it is hard to speak of these things
how the voices of light enter the body
and begin to recite their stories
how the earth holds us painfully against 
ts breast made of humus and brambles
how we will soon be gone regard
the entities that continue to return
greener than ever, spring water flowing
through a meadow and the shadows of clouds
passing over the hills and the ground
where we stand in the tremble of thought
taking the vast outside into ourselves.

Still, let me know before you set out.
Come knock on my door
and I will walk with you as far as the garden 
with one hand on your shoulder.
I will even watch after you and not turn back
to the house until you disappear 
into the crowd of maple and ash,
heading up toward the hill,
percing the ground with your stick.

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Added: May 7 2003 | Viewed: 1254 times | Comments and analysis of Directions by Billy Collins Comments (263)

Directions - Comments and Information

Poet: Billy Collins
Poem: Directions
Volume: Sailing Alone Around the Room
Poem of the Day: Mar 2 2009

Comment 263 of 263, added on June 30th, 2015 at 6:07 PM.
UTkRRwhLlSnUNF

db5u7T wow, awesome blog article.Thanks Again.

crorkzz from Yemen
Comment 262 of 263, added on June 30th, 2015 at 1:22 PM.
WwATfHBJalowfhqJ

pDuGJo Thanks so much for the post. Cool.

links crorkzz from Norway
Comment 261 of 263, added on June 11th, 2015 at 8:44 AM.
xZcHSAhRqhn

5IqYPT This is one awesome blog post.Much thanks again.

crorkzz from Cuba

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