Sacredness and light fill the oracles
Of every halfmoon rescuer’s
Respite,
It was true the dogs and foxes cried
And split the night beyond the northbound
Houses block upon block;
So only noble staring courage came
Without a distant pale
Delight.
The yester years deliver drowning
Words and wounds and half-made
Smiles we never will remember;
The forward tears rescind our
Burdens they
Could scarcely bear
By way of visions fear
December.
Especially she captivates the
Shaking she denies
The need to
Break the stifled glory might;
The precedent resurges only once
Or twice a night instead of
Hiding sinking sliding out of
Sight.
So go without, decide what you must
Sign and verify; forsythia will not bloom
For five more months or more; hedges
Will not harbor blossoms hallowed
Out their colors
Layered row upon row;
Leave them now, their branches empty
Arms aside abandoned lulling fall
Of winter tide and evening quiet long
And wide.
