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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