Author Lola Ridge The earth is motionless And poised in space… A great bird resting in its flight Between the alleys of the stars. It is the wind’s hour off…. The wind has nestled down among the corn…. The two speak privately together, Awaiting the whirr of wings. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 Average: 2 (4 votes) Rate Log in or register to post comments