Wednesday, February 25, 2015

On the Darkening Green

North brook makes stream sounds.
The light moves over
The broken landscape.
Yes, it's all broken.
Bits of rock cracked off.

I would like to be
Me, uniquely sweet,
But I am I, sour
Like every other
I I've discovered.

The stream's a mercy,
With its sound; the light's
A mercy; the rocks
Feel kindly, breaking
As I have broken.

I take dictation
From a brain that hosts
An English language
And various dreams.
Still, I'll tell you this:

Nothing's ever still.
When I was unloved
And young, I knew it.
I know I'm old, loved,
And in love with you.

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