Poems that mean the most to me are those that stop the busy-ness in my head and jolt me into a moment of nothing but the magical spell of words and images. I had that experience lately with this poem by Wallace Stevens, and wanted to share it with you.
A Rabbit as King of the Ghosts
by Wallace Stevens
The difficulty to think at the end of day,
When the shapeless shadow covers the sun
and nothing is left except light on your fur–
There was the cat slopping its milk all day,
Fat cat, red tongue, green mind, white milk
And August the most peaceful month.
To be, in the grass, in the peacefullest time
Without that monument of cat,
The cat forgotten in the moon;
And to feel that the light is a rabbit-light,
In which everything is meant for you
And nothing need be explained.