Poems Rethabile Likes

The Mountain by Elizabeth Bishop | Poems Rethabile Likes The Mountain by Elizabeth Bishop At evening, something behind me. I start for a second, I blench, or staggeringly halt and burn, I do not know my age. In the morning it is different. An open book confronts me, too close to read in comfort. Tell me how old I am. And then the valleys stuff impenetrable mists like cotton in my ears. I do not know my age. I do not mean to complain. They say it is my fault. Nobody tells me anything. Tell me how old I am. The deepest demarcations c...