Song
--To whistle once into a forever wind.
And the light from the sky pooled around us.
We put our hands into it and rubbed it on others, ones distant
or gone.
And chance assigned us a time, and our bodies grew.
And we became aware, then our bodies grew tired, and our minds
were taken away.
Yes, some of us have been found, but what’s lost
often remains forever.
Sometimes in the middle of October an April occurs, and we marvel
at green bursting through the papery yellow,
then it snows and the sun comes out all across the white page.
And you stand there, dusted in a brightness, moving alone.
Mark Irwin
