Poems
Close of day: classic rural
Time has reserved this calm
hour to lay in the palm
of her hand like a jewel, and admire:
the hills drawing down the fire
of the sun to hearths, where it rests
its glory on groves and fields;
the wind that obligingly yields
itself to squire birds to their nests;
the stream that circles a thought
followed all day and caught
in the dusk of the reeds at the bend;
and houses content with the day,
windows shining; and barns that intend
milkings and feedings of hay,
and things bedding down in the gloam -
and, finally, out of the meadows,
down the lane slowly, the shadows
bringing the cattle home....
Window pattern
Outside the window, breeze and tree
lay a pattern over me.
Leaves and boughs are all I see.
Along a path of sky crisscrossed,
they are gently turned and tossed -
a world in which my thoughts get lost.
I watch the branches bow and swing.
Immersed in them, I cannot bring
myself beyond this perfect thing.
(c) Copyright 2000. The Christian Science Publishing Society
