To Waken An Old Lady Comments

So much imaginations and likes it.

WC Williams wrote this poem when he was 37 years young, which accounts for the poem's piping plenty ending. I, at 65 years OLD, dare to re-write Williams' poem, thereby making it a truer definition of old age: Old age is a flight of gray whispery crows skimming bare trees above a snow glaze. Gaining and failing they are buffeted by a dark wind until, wearied, they dropp from the sky onto broken weedstalks: spiked bent blotches on a white blank field no longer by the shrill wind disquieted. -Stanton Hager, March 2012

Zen-like concision and beautiful flow. One of the few poems by the author that I can appreciate.