another chilly dawn

we name the days and count them as they go
we celebrate their passing though the fact
that they are limited is ignored through tact
or else forgotten for the truth is that we know
that whether they go fast or go by slow
the end must surely come as to a city sacked
by the barbarians or to a fort attacked
by treacherous neighbours in a sudden blow
days come and go and while we long for pause
we know that termination comes at last
for each of us and that what we most fear
is not the blank absence of a primal cause
but that we'll linger while our moment's past
in hope that we might have a better year

poems in the night

no matter how clear the line must fade
unremembered save in the deep of night
words struggle to stay sharp and bright
this is the nature of the muse's trade
you dig into the mind without a spade
and turn up nothing that's exactly right
beneath that soil there's never any light
and yet at ending there's a shiny blade
where we came in the door will close
our passage will not disturb much dust
and yet plain words tell what we know
there's more inside than we suppose
the answer requires hope and trust
and in the passage we may see a glow

distant noises indicating pain

the brightest colour hides the greatest lie
what we have wanted we may not have got
no clouds now mar the azure of the sky

from dead hands wise men reason may pry
there is no stain there no mark no blot
the brightest colour hides the greatest lie

what others see we may not here descry
breeze blows but the tree's rooted to the spot
no clouds now mar the azure of the sky

in the high wind no bird would dare to fly
the shaking branches provide each a lot
the brightest colour hides the greatest lie

the sun's now falling that was once so high
the greenest tree contains the deepest rot
no clouds now mar the azure of the sky

to our last question there comes no reply
we're left with the dark workings of the plot
the brightest colour hides the greatest lie
no clouds now mar the azure of the sky

magnolia not mango

there's no time to wonder duty requires
each of us to take such action as is due
we turn from the enchantment of the view
to the glad task of lighting inward fires
each in their way to some glory aspires
there's pleasure to be taken in what's new
yet true experience comes to but few
the signals not the shaking of the wires
a tree befools me taking me back years
its leaves remind me of a warmer place
with ripe fruit falling to the grassy ground
my eyes are dry now i've shed no tears
the trick of light has given me its grace
i turn to work and do not hear the sound