Poem Hunter
Poems
Just Thinking
William Stafford (January 17, 1914 – August 28, 1993 / Kansas)

Just Thinking

Got up on a cool morning. Leaned out a window.
No cloud, no wind. Air that flowers held
for awhile. Some dove somewhere.

Been on probation most of my life. And
the rest of my life been condemned. So these moments
count for a lot--peace, you know.

Let the bucket of memory down into the well,
bring it up. Cool, cool minutes. No one
stirring, no plans. Just being there.

This is what the whole thing is about.

User Rating: 3,5 / 5 ( 44 votes ) 10

Comments (10)

the morning of the winter was snow white- angelic coolness came refreshed the biting cold mind sun shined the inside warmth
geyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
Punctuated, clipped expression with a few moving metaphors. On the whole expresses his appreciation of the existential moment in an appreciable manner. What we are invited to contemplate seems to have more substance than the invitation itself, though that s likely the intent of the author. Nicely done.
Stafford is a great modern poet. His sparse use of words hints at his American Indian parentage. He should be read often.
Being there! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
See More