Alpine Anemone Image source
 Don Paterson
In the meadow the anemone
is creaking open to the dawn.
By noon, the sky's polyphony
will flood her white lap till she drowns.

The tiny muscle in her star
is tensed to open to the All,
yet the daylights blast so deafens her
she barely heeds the sunset’s call

or finds the willpower to refurl
her petal-edges - her, the power
and will of how many other worlds!

In our violence we outlive her.
But which new life will see us flower
and face the skies, as true receivers?

 Don Paterson Orpheus : A Translation From The Sonnets to Orpheus by Rainer Maria Rilke.
More information /background on original poem from here and Guardian review of Paterson's work here.

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