Archers

The sunshine poured out slantwise from the west
Like heavy yellow cream poured from a bowl.
Immersed in its deep flood some figures moved,
Small animated toys, in sweaters green
And red and gold, all bright as fruit.
They stooped and picked up arrows and returned
And stood erect and still and let them fly,
So occupied in keeping shoulders back
And holding with the steady, easy grip,
They surely could not see, as Rachel saw,
The picture that they made, bright, graceful toys,
Moving in a sunshine thick as cream.

I wish I were an archer, Rachel thought,
With neither way nor will to stand apart
And see how I must look to others' eyes.
I wish I were an archer occupied
With gaining that gold center, with no care
But adding to the skill to make it so.
I wish I were an archer with a heart
Bent to one purpose, as a bow is bent,
Supple and light and strong,
                        But I am not,
And cannot be, I think, for I have not
The certain single eye that archers have.

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