The leaves do not fear fall,
and the fading sun
does not quarrel with the moon.
The berries on the bough
are bitter indeed, so why
do I walk in these woods
on frozen nights of shadow
when you have not been here
for a thousand years?
The leaves do not fear fall,
and the fading sun
does not quarrel with the moon.
The berries on the bough
are bitter indeed, so why
do I walk in these woods
on frozen nights of shadow
when you have not been here
for a thousand years?
I began my morning walk
not knowing when I’d return.
I had time, or rather,
time had me by the hand
and led me somewhere
I had not been. A field
with wild grass stretched
to every horizon except
for one tree whose leaves
were the colors of dusk.
I stayed a while past lunch,
my pockets full of things
I thought I had lost.