Bridges

Sometimes I wish I could stand at a windy bridge,
And let my hair loose,
And let the stars, like so many thousands of sentinals,
Tell me how to feel.
They would disrobe in the dark
Smile at me and say,
"Even your keel,
Take the road,
Leave your sorrows,
Drop your load."
Though, then, even then,
I may cry
That they know so much better than I.
How they are floating but well employed
And I am just a speck of dust
Standing on a bridge.

Leaf

The meadows are all barren,
The gate before them ice:
A blank reminder of the clouds
That bent the fields of rice;
The crows are calling sadly,
The deer have disappeared:
There's pieces of a frozen mouse
Which seems both sad and queer.
The sheds have doors that bang and beat,
Like drums in rushing winds;
There's but a single leaf alive
Which rests with corpsly friends.

When It Fades

Time is forgotten
Sands and crumbs we drop like pods of cotton,
Shadows that we never could remember,
Frosted panes and empty lanes in late December;
Spring came too soon: flowers bent without a hope of living,
Buds and bees and leaves their spirits giving,
Wishing they could sing another moment...
A moment...
A moment in time.

Your Brand

You weren't anonymous, this I know;

Not the breath of a wind, not a passing glow;

You were not just a footprint in the shimmering sands,

Nor a glint of gold in a distant land.

No, these things could be passed, and none would care,

A shell, a drop, a chip, a hair;

But you were more than empty hands,

And left me like a burning brand. 

Changing Wind

Catch the wind within a hand,
Never let it leave,
Like a thousand grains of sand
Unallowed to breathe;
Favors it will have to get,
Just to stay inside;
Start a trial, take a bet
How long it will abide.
Whisper in its flying ear,
"Hear the autumn come?"
Soon you'll have no loss to fear
Though its voice is dumb.
Catch it, make it stay for life
Feel it every day
It will be a kiss and knife
When the skies are gray.

From the Drought

I think if I should see the sea,
Then I should also see my soul;
An item both inane and wise,
An ornament both deep and dull.
The foaming breakers are my hopes,
At times they were so commonplace,
But now they draw themselves away
And disappear without a trace.
Should storms arrive, I will agree
That they reflect my downward thoughts;
But I should not be prone to change
The rains that keep me from the drought.