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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=384059" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Colder The Air</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=384059" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">We must admire her perfect aim, <br>this huntress of the winter air <br>whose level weapon needs no sight, <br>if it were not that everywhere <br>her game is sure, her shot is right. <br>The least of us could do the same. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=384059" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The chalky birds or boats stand still, <br>reducing her conditions of chance; <br>air's gallery marks identically <br>the narrow gallery of her glance. <br>The target-center in her eye <br>is equally her aim and will. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=384059" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Time's in her pocket, ticking loud <br>on one stalled second. She'll consult <br>not time nor circumstance. She calls <br>on atmosphere for her result. <br>(It is this clock that later falls <br>in wheels and chimes of leaf and cloud.)</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Elizabeth+Bishop">Elizabeth Bishop</a></strong></div>

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