Passing an Orchard by Train
Comment on Passing an Orchard by Train and see more Robert Bly poems below.
Grass high under apple trees.
The bark of the trees rough and sexual
the grass growing heavy and uneven.
We cannot bear disaster like
in open fields.
One slight bruise and we die!
I know no one on this train.
A man comes walking down the aisle.
I want to tell him
that I forgive him that I want him
to forgive me.
Top Robert Bly Poems