In the Grove
Jane Kenyon
She lay on her back in the timothy
and gazed past the doddering
auburn heads of sumac.
and gazed past the doddering
auburn heads of sumac.
A cloud—huge, dignified,
and calm—covered the sun
but did not, could not, put it out.
The light surged back again. . . .
Nothing could turn her then
from that joy so violent
and hard to distinguish from pain.
