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The river is moving, the blackbird must be flying*

sadieroad

Road, Sadie Creek, February 2009

Meanwhile, a brief interlude from a favorite-

I

Among twenty snowy mountains,
The only moving thing
Was the eye of the blackbird.

V

I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendoes,
The blackbird whistling
Or just after.

XIII

It was evening all afternoon.
It was snowing
And it was going to snow.
The blackbird sat
In the cedar-limbs.

– Wallace Stevens, from Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird*