Fifteen

// Fifteen // --William Stafford

South of the bridge on Seventeenth

I found, back of the willows one summer

day, a motorcycle with engine running

as it lay on its side, ticking over

slowly in the high grass. I was fifteen. 5 I admired all that pulsing gleam, the

shiny flanks, the demure headlights

fringed where it lay; I led it gently

to the road, and stood with that

companion, ready and friendly. I was fifteen. 10 We could find the end of a road, meet

the sky on out Seventeenth. I thought about

hills, and patting the handle got back a

confident opinion. On the bridge we indulged

a forward feeling, a tremble. I was fifteen. 15 Thinking, back farther in the grass I found

the owner, just coming to, where he had flipped

over the rail. He had blood on his hand, was pale--

I helped him walk to his machine. He ran his hand

over it, called me good man, roared away. 20 I stood there, fifteen

=A Bridging Activity=

It seems that though Stafford'd poems may not always come from a inner quiet, nevertheless "the quiet is their goal." Anxiety "because of the discrepancy between the way men live and the way they ought to live" launches many of his poems.

Make a connection between the above description and the story. Support your answer with information from the story.

=A post-reading Activity=

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