AIX SPONSA
Ellin Anderson
Work is done, and so is day;
Evening's glow of love
Holds the silver night at bay
While stars reflect the ashes of
The loosetrife fading, plum to gray
The twilight fading, plum to gray
I stood where the low trees bleed
Berries, near the pond.
Sweetness rose from every reed
And touched me as I saw, beyond
The shore, the wading heron — still
The dancer on her mirror — still
When she arcs into the sky
Her soft back will bear
Water-color, azure dye.
When she leaves the lucid air
She'll cast the modest blue of grace
Onto the water's placid face
No one cares how late I sleep,
Or wonders where I go.
Yes, I know the woods are deep;
I will taste the falling snow,
And wander through the fields to take
Long walks beside the frozen lake
Ask us what we'd like to be:
Left alone? My friend,
That's demanding much. They'll see
The crescent draped at either end
With your feathers, and my skin
The moon, a hanger for my skin
Eloquence of skeletons
Will tell what birds we were.
Every poet's echo runs
Within the only register:
A record kept in shells of verse
A life, set down in shells of verse
Now the heron crouches, flies,
Skims above the trees.
Far away, an echo dies
With the light, on nights like these:
What's a life lived out in words?
What's a life lived out in words?
What I've made it — this is all
What I've made it — this is all.
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