The sadness of rivers is their aimlessness.
Though the edge of the world invites them,
they refuse to go beyond themselves.
Even the wolves of destiny can't persuade them
to forsake the lyric poem for the epic.
The contentment of trees is their protocol:
always bowing good-day, waving good-bye,
they make a ceremony out of greening.
They even put up with the coal-hearted crow,
with ruptured kites, and an armor of snow.
The bitterness of mountains is a solid fire,
fueled by air, by an envy of clouds.
With hearts of granite, mountains are unmoved
by the sight of swans reshaping the skies,
by the slow deaths of free-wheeling stars.
The joy of roses is a breaking of silence;
their fragrance a translation of light.
Their marvelous bodies spell out desire
in the coldest year of exile, when hunger
sings in the ice and despair licks itself.
The wisdom of oceans is a holy invention.
Though waves love to confess their passions
to unlistening shores, the ancient scrolls
of spindrift retain their pearly secrets,
the waters of oblivion seal their doors.
The gratitude of stones is wide as the world.
Their shadows are heirlooms the day hoards,
along with the blessings of pebbles.
Stones know the words under our tongues
are their children: mutable, jagged, bold
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Great Poems to Read
PoetryJust a couple of poems. Disclaimer: I do not own any of these poems. Credit to the poet.
