ISSUE: Winter 1926
Changes of light are living things
And flit along the brook;
On a willow-limb their images
Are wounded wings of smoke.
Two ways of life make the design,
The brook’s way with the sun is mine;
The willow’s way is yours.
You are a reaching, rooted span
Where little leaves grow:
You are a woman; but I am a man
And catch the sun and go.