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I Love
I love the echo dwindling
After the breakneck troika in
The woods. I love the gloss
Of fatigue after the ringing laughter.
I love the violet flood of halflight
Above me on winter mornings, and where
The sun burns in spring. Of winter,
I love only its rose flare
I love the light melting,
Tints on the paling surface....
I love each sensible thing
Which knows neither insolence nor echo.
Sunset Ringing in a Field
The woods cloud over, glinting,
Faces shift in shadow.
The bells gather to pray
In the sky's blue hermitage,
Succor me, bells!
The dust after glittering day
Grieves my orphaned heart with
The lure of peace.
What is the bell's promise?
Or will we also mass
Forming like pearls
Gathered in blue backwaters?
Autumn
It is still not four....but the sun
Barely gilded the skies all day long.
The river hazes in the faded steppe,
So the clouds, so smooth above us.
Moving, they concealed so much tenderness--
Poison of past betrayal, pain of dissolution--
That the heart wanted music for it.
But snow lay lifeless in the mountains,
And in the night, whistling blasts
Snapped the strings taut between sky and earth,
And near morning someone, silently scattering our dreams,
Reminded us, whispering, we are condemned.
The cloudbank freezes.
Night comes on, wearing our downfall.
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10/11/12