The Return
don’t go to sleep, don’t
Dear, the road is long yet
don’t go too near
the forest’s enticements, don’t lose hope
write the address
in snowmelt on your hand
or lean on my shoulder
as we pass the hazy morninglifting the transparent storm curtain
we’ll arrive at where we are from
a green disk of land
around an old pagoda
there I will guard
your weary dreams
and drive off the flocks of nights
leaving only bronze drums, and the sun
as beyond the pagoda
tiny waves quietly
crawl up the beach
and draw back trembling
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