Volume > Issue > Befuddled

Befuddled

A POEM

By Ralph Wright, O.S.B. | November 1983

A slow befuddled winter fly

With 747 abandon

Has trundled from my window sill

And God knows what he’ll land on.

 

Such geriatric flies present

A crisis to compassion:

To smear them or to leave them space

To die in their own fashion.

Enjoyed reading this?

READ MORE! GET A FREE 7 DAY TRIAL

SUBSCRIBE TODAY

You May Also Enjoy

In Memoriam 1685-1750

“Bach is my best friend.

He is the God of music.”

William Carlos Williams: A Doctor’s Faith, a Poet’s Faith

Williams knew how bored, self-centered, and self-indulgent the rich can be, and how desperately confused, vulnerable, and self-lacerating the poor often are.

Fragments on the Death of a Muskrat

Ballpeened by a bumper,

Struck down by steel,

Bowled hard over pavement,

Done in with…