A Hermit Thrush Comments

I must admit that I've always thought Amy Clampitt's language too rarefied, her syntax too convoluted to recommend themselves to the Common Reader. But poems like this one persuade me I was mistaken. I have read her only in anthologies; obviously, these erudite anthologists (usually professorial critics working toward tenure and promotion) value her erudition and choose her most oblique poems. This hermit thrush and her pokeweed coming up in a vacant lot are accessible and delightful, and at the same time thoughtful and provocative of satisfying reflection