Imagine this midnight forest
Where something else is alive
But my soulless heart.
Something more near
Though deeper within darkness
Is entering my loneliness:
Cold, delicately as the dark snow,
An owl’s wing touches twig, leaf;
Two eyes serve a movement, that now
And again now, and now, and now
Sets neat dots into the immaculate
Whiteness, between trees, and
Across clearings.
The window is starless still;
The clock ticks,
The poem lingers between
My trembling hands.
NIGHT VERSES