DAY'S END
.
Oxen and sheep were brought back down
Long ago, and bramble gates closed. Over
Mountains and rivers, far from my old garden,
A windswept moon rises into clear night.
.
Springs trickle down dark cliffs, and autumn
Dew fills ridge line grasses. My hair seems
Whiter in lamplight. the flame flickers
Good fortune over and over - and for what?
No comments:
Post a Comment