Blueflags

I stopped the car
to let the children down
where the streets end
in the sun
at the marsh edge
and the reeds begin
and there are small houses
facing the reeds
and the blue mist in the distance
with grapevine trellises
with grape clusters
small as strawberries
on the vines
and ditches
running springwater
that continue the gutters
with willows over them.
The reeds begin
like water at a shore
their pointed petals waving
dark green and light.
But blueflags are blossoming
in the reeds
which the children pluck
chattering in the reeds
high over their heads
which they part
with bare arms to appear
with fists of flowers
till in the air
there comes the smell
of calmus
from wet, gummy stalks.

by William Carlos Williams

Comments (2)

Dawn dearest, he can't keep it up- -he died in the 1960's. If he does keep it up, I believe I will flee screaming into the hills for Darryl or Rick or Mschonne! ! ! [Walking Dead cast] I am so accustomed to his poetry taking a bitter or unpleasant turn that I kept looking for the children to sink in a bog whilst fetching lovely flowers while daddy dearest watched from the car....
Will This is a good poem, keep it up