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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=415243" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Winter Daybreak Above Vence</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=415243" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The night's drifts<br>Pile up below me and behind my back,<br>Slide down the hill, rise again, and build<br>Eerie little dunes on the roof of the house.<br>In the valley below me,<br>Miles between me and the town of St.-Jeannet,<br>The road lamps glow.<br>They are so cold, they might as well be dark.<br>Trucks and cars<br>Cough and drone down there between the golden<br>Coffins of greenhouses, the startled squawk<br>Of a rooster claws heavily across<br>A grove, and drowns.<br>The gumming snarl of some grouchy dog sounds,<br>And a man bitterly shifts his broken gears.<br>True night still hangs on,<br>Mist cluttered with a racket of its own.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=415243" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Now on the mountainside,<br>A little way downhill among turning rucks,<br>A square takes form in the side of a dim wall.<br>I hear a bucket rattle or something, tinny,<br>No other stirring behind the dim face<br>Of the goatherd's house. I imagine<br>His goats are still sleeping, dreaming<br>Of the fresh roses<br>Beyond the walls of the greenhouse below them.<br>And of lettuce leaves opening in Tunisia.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=415243" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I turn, and somehow<br>Impossibly hovering in the air over everything,<br>The Mediterranean, nearer to the moon<br>Than this mountain is, Shines. A voice clearly<br>Tells me to snap out of it. Galway<br>Mutters out of the house and up the stone stairs<br>To start the motor. The moon and the stars<br>Suddenly flicker out, and the whole mountain<br>Appears, pale as a shell.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=415243" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Look, the sea has not fallen and broken<br>Our heads. How can I feel so warm<br>Here in the dead center of January? I can<br>Scarcely believe it, and yet I have to, this is<br>The only life I have. I get up from the stone.<br>My body mumbles something unseemly<br>And follows me. Now we are all sitting here strangely<br>On top of sunlight.</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=James+Arlington+Wright">James Arlington Wright</a></strong></div>