Vast and grey, the sky
is a simulacrum
to all but him whose days
are vast and grey and—
In the tall, dried grasses
a goat stirs
with nozzle searching the ground.
My head is in the air
but who am I . . . ?
—and my heart stops amazed
at the thought of love
vast and grey
yearning silently over me.
The poem, to me vibrates with metaphysical vibrations:
“the thought of love vast amd grey”; similar to Robert Frost’s My November guest
this is what it is about. learning to stop and realize who you are and understanding that is what we live for.