A simple man,
He liked the crease on the water
His cast made, but had no pity
For the broken backbone
Of water or fish.
One of his pleasures, thirsty,
Was to ask a drink
At the hot farms;
Leaving with a casual thank you,
As though they owed it him.
I could have told of the living water
That springs pure.
He would have smiled then,
Dancing his speckled fly in the shallows,
Not understanding.
by R. S. Thomas
from Not That He Brought Flowers (1968)
Tag: smiled
‘God smiled. The controls’ by R. S. Thomas
God smiled. The controls
were working; the small
eaten by the large, the large
by the larger. One problem
remained: the immunity
of a species. ‘Easy,’
the jester at his side
whispered, indicating
the air’s window that the germs
thronged. God opened it a crack, and the human edifice
was dismantled. Among the ruins
one, stupider than the rest,
sat, seeing history’s wheel
idle, putting a hand out, ready
to start it all over again.
by R. S. Thomas
from Counterpoint (1990)
Rambling At The Bridge Head 