Still dark.
The unknown bird sits on his usual branch.
The little dog next door barks in his sleep
inquiringly, just once.
Perhaps in his sleep, too, the bird inquires
once or twice, quavering.
Questions--if that is what they are--
answered directly, simply,
by day itself.

Enormous morning, ponderous, meticulous;
gray light streaking each bare branch,
each single twig, along one side,
making another tree, of glassy veins...
The bird still sits there. Now he seems to yawn.

The little black dog runs in his yard.
His owner's voice arises, stern,
"You ought to be ashamed!"
What has he done?
He bounces cheerfully up and down;
he rushes in circles in the fallen leaves.

Obviously, he has no sense of shame.
He and the bird know everything is answered,
all taken care of,
no need to ask again.
--Yesterday brought to today so lightly!
(A yesterday I find almost impossible to lift.)

Added: on February 3rd, 2005 at 11:24 AM | Viewed: 4463 times | Comments (1)

Poet: Elizabeth Bishop
Poem: Five Flights Up

Are you looking for more information on this poem? Perhaps you are trying to analyze it? The poem, Five Flights Up, has received one comment so far. Click here to read it, and perhaps post a comment of your own. Of course you can also always discuss poems by Elizabeth Bishop with others on the Poetry Connection poetry forum!