W.S. Merwin 1927-2019

The walls join hands and

It is tomorrow :

The birds clucking to the horses, the horses

Doing the numbers for the hell of it,

The numbers playing the calendars,

The saints marching in,

It seems only yesterday,

when what I keep saying to myself is

Take a leaf from the fire, open

Your hand, see

Where you are going,

When what I am trying to find is

The beginning,

In the ashes,

A wing, when what we are looking for

In each other

Is each other,

The stars at noon,

While the light worships its blind god.

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