To Lingering Regrets

Without wanting to

I have come slowly

to admit that I know

who you are one by one

O lovely and mournful

with downcast eyes

appearing to me as

you are turning away

to stand silent and late

in a remembered light

touched with amber

as the sun is going

from a day that it brought

you come to me again

and again to wait

as beautiful as ever

at the edge of the light

you have not changed at all

as far as I can tell

and you learn nothing from me

who do not talk with you

but see you waiting there

without once moving toward you

O forever hopeful

and forever young

you are the foolish virgins

with no oil for your lamps

and no one else to lead you

where you want to go

--W.S. Merwin

To Days of Winter

Not enough has been said 

ever in your praise 

hushed mornings

before the year turns new

and for a while afterward

passing behind the sounds

oh light worn thin 

until the eye can 

almost see through you 

still words continuing 

to bloom out of yourselves 

in the way of the older stars 

your ancestors  

season from before knowledge 

reappearing 

days when the sun is loved most 

--W.S. Merwin