Poetic feet

I love the way my friend Rebecca refers to my semi-anonymous blog here. The link on her blog is "poetic feet."

But I feel like I've been letting down my poetry-loving blog readers.

Today, though, I was reading a poem that I thought would fit in well on my blog. And it's short enough that I can type it in here.

It's a poem written by Carlos Drummond de Andrade and translated by Mark Strand called, "In the Middle of the Road."

In the middle of the road there was a stone
there was a stone in the middle of the road
there was a stone
in the middle of the road there was a stone.

I'll never forget this event
in the lifetime of my tired eyes.
I'll never forget that in the middle of the road
there was a stone
there was a stone in the middle of the road
in the middle of the road there was a stone.

~~~~~~~~
That's in end of that poem. Make of it what you will. I liked it. Of course, in my mind, there's usually a nickle or a penny or a quarter in the middle of the road right in front of me. And I think I could stop and pick it up. But why stop when I could just keep going and keep running and how much is a nickle or a penny or a quarter worth anyway.