Thursday, February 9, 2012

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 
days when the sun is loved most 
--W.S. Merwin

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