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Heart of Autumn ROBERT PENN WARREN Wind finds the northwest gap, fall comes. Today, under gray cloud-scud and over gray Wind-flicker of forest, in perfect formation, wild geese Head for a land of warm water, the boom, the lead pellet. Some crumple in air, fall. Some stagger, recover control, Then take the last glide for a far glint of water. None Knows what has happened. Now, today, watching How tirelessly F upon Farrows the season's logic, Do I know my own story? At least, they know When the hour comes for the great wing-beat. Sky-strider, Star-strider—they rise, and the imperial utterance, Which cries out for distance, quivers in the wheeling sky. That much they know, and in their nature know The path of pathlessness, with all the joy Of destiny fulfilling its own name. I have known time and distance, but not why I am here. Path of logic, path of folly, all The same—and I stand, my face lifted now skyward, Hearing the high beat, my arms outstretched in the tingling Process of transformation, and soon tough legs, 35° With folded feet, trail in the sounding vacuum of passage, And my heart is impacted with a fierce impulse To unwordable utterance— Toward sunset, at a great height. From Now and Then: Poems 1976-1978 (1978) ROBERT PENN WARREN 351 ...

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