mostly fallen down
the barbed wire fence—
what’s it to the birds?
*
listening
for the moon—
sound of a heart
*
that hyacinth leaf—
staring at it until it is
no longer leaf
*
in the window
the boy waves at himself
saying he won’t stop
until the other boy
stops waving
*
poet, can you rhyme
with the cherry tree
in spring
especially like the second disappearing. must be the lunatic in me.
as for the boy waving to the other boy. it’s a certainty that they’ll each stop in the same moment, just as they began.
“…O body swayed to music, O brightening glance,
How can we know the dancer from the dance?”
-William Butler Yeats, from, “Among School Children”
That boy in the window reminds me of me. I think you are on to something, his resistance to stopping said only to himself. Perhaps if his reflection gets bored first, he’ll be able to quit without losing face:>)
. . .only when “the rain takes off her clothes” and
you listen to the moonlight shimmering
in the raven’s feather falling
into your hand. . .and. . .
Lovely, Jim