It is the lightness of a hawk
That dresses the wind,
The tracings found
In crushed elegies of frost.
It is the shade that disappears
Into summer’s resinous hum,
The sigh contained in all rapt silences,
The shudder in the belly of a rose.
It is the lightness of a hawk
That dresses the wind,
The tracings found
In crushed elegies of frost.
It is the shade that disappears
Into summer’s resinous hum,
The sigh contained in all rapt silences,
The shudder in the belly of a rose.