10658728_552838141517511_2686707979466277495_o

 

unspoken Autumn

The black moon turns away, its work done.
A tenderness, unspoken autumn.
We are faithful only to the imagination.
What the imagination seizes as beauty must be truth.
What holds you to what you see of me is
that grasp alone.

from Denise Levertov, Everything That Acts Is Actual

Advertisements