'The War Season' by William Stafford

The birds that winter blew past our yard
feathered along so young
that only the trees could follow their wings
or understand their tongue.

The north wind blew. Limbs bent down.
Leaves fell over the lawn.
The birds one day were young in the sky;
the next day they were gone.

This poem was written in 1945 when William Stafford was a conscientious objector in USA. He was a Quaker and a gentleman, a farmer and a family man. He is one of my favourite poets - a man who wrote a poem a day while his family slumbered before or around dawn. He used simple diction with lively imagery to celebrate the greatest passion of his life: the world about him. He had wit, humour, style and purpose. Thank you to The Friends of William Stafford who promote his work to this day throughout USA.

The photo and poem have been half-hitched from http://mikechasar.blogspot.com/2010/01/william-staffords-birthday.html