everything of
me was choir-song
every bolt of
air,
every summer
moon,
every drop of
cooling rain,
in spring i
melted like
a hedgerow,
in gold and
sky-bronze,
in summer i
gathered the sky
to my branches
green with shadows
of longing,
in autumn i trembled
downwards like a
girl unwinding her
hair,
and in winter i froze
on the doorstep
all black branch
and cold
rigging on
a barren ship,
everything of me
was choir-song and
i had the most
beautiful
purple throat,
i was a soft
melody of love
on a strange
moody day.