IMG_1754[1]

 

Whatever you hoped,

you will not find yourselves in the garden,

among the growing plants.

Your lives are not circular like theirs:

 

your lives are the bird’s flight

which begins and ends in stillness–

which begins and ends, in form echoing

this arc from the white birch

to the apple tree.

 

From Louise Gluck, Retreating wind

 

Advertisements