Thursday, December 28, 2017

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.

Wednesday, December 6, 2017

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.

Saturday, December 2, 2017

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.