POEM
The Dipper
Kathleen JamieIt was winter, near freezing,
I'd walked through a forest of firs
when I saw issue out of the waterfall
a solitary bird.
It lit on a damp rock,
and, as water swept stupidly on,
wrung from its own throat
supple, undammable song.
It isn't mine to give.
I can't coax this bird to my hand
that knows the depth of the river
yet sings of it on land.
Source: Poetry (June 2004).
This poem originally appeared in the June 2004 issue of Poetry.
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Born in the west of Scotland, Kathleen Jamie studied philosophy at Edinburgh University. At 19 she . . . MORE »
