and falling aspirations.
from our perspective, is foreshadowed;
we walk through fields of graying leaves.
The sky is iron-lidded. Dead tracery
battered hulls about our feet,
veins, now dry as chalk and worn,
to their olden patterns, tapestry
of frosted glass whose point of view is shattered.
A luminous breath has etched the hedgerows.
Now a cardinal,
a single spot of color,
breaks from the bushes, heading west,
but can only go so far.
the watery sun, a single, unmoving eye,
takes us all in:
skeletons of the elms,
two muffled figures, a blotch of red.
In what particular context
will it place us?
Only that of simple things.
on that theme, depth is clearly limited
The view of two
is prelude to the give-and-take
which may ultimately lead
And this is what we seem to need
to keep us hale, to help us see
Assume, for instance,
that the elms in winter imitate the bears
and bring their slowed-down pulses underground
in the warm, forgiving contours of the earth.
Then, conversely, as a heart may live
in undifferentiated darkness
for a spell,
it may brave the light,
beat out from under cover and give
to the view of the rest of the world
a bit of color, which,
like a kite in the wind,
in the leaden embrace of an autumn sky,
will tug at its moorings