CONTOURS

by: Zona Gale (1874-1938)

      AM glad of the straight lines of the rain;
      Of the free blowing curves of the grain;
      Of the perilous swirling and curling of fire;
      The sharp upthrust of a spire;
      Of the ripples on the river
      Where the patterns curl and quiver
      And sun thrills;
      Of the innumerable undulations of the hills.
      But the true line is drawn from my spirit to some infinite outward place...
      That line I cannot trace.

"Contours" is reprinted from The Secret Way. Zona Gale. New York: Macmillan Co., 1921.

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