Kei

When I Am Among The Trees

When I am among the trees,

especially the willows and the honey locust,

equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,

they give off such hints of gladness.

I would almost say that they save me, and daily.

I am so distant from the hope of myself,

in which I have goodness, and discernment,

and never hurry through the world

    but walk slowly, and bow often.

Around me the trees stir in their leaves

and call out, "Stay awhile."

The light flows from their branches.

And they call again, "It's simple," they say

"and you too have come

into the world to do this , to go easy, to be filled 

with light, and to shine."

         - Mary Oliver

In the Winter of My Thirty-Eighth Year

It sounds unconvincing to say When I was young

Though I have long wondered what it would be like

To be me now

No older at all it seems from here

As far from myself as ever

Walking in fog and rain and seeing nothing

I imagine all the clocks have died in the night

Now no one is looking I could choose my age

It would be younger I suppose so I am older

It is there at hand I could take it

Except for the things I think I would do differently

They keep coming between they are what I am

They have taught me little I did not know when I was young

There is nothing wrong with my age now probably

It is how I have come to it

Like a thing I kept putting off as I did my youth

There is nothing the matter with speech

Just because it lent itself

To my uses

Of course there is nothing the matter with the stars

It is my emptiness among them

While they drift farther away in the invisible morning

                                        -  W. S. Merwin

Trying to have something left over

There was a great tenderness to the sadness

when I would go there. She knew how much

I loved my wife and that we had no future.

We were like casualties helping each other

as we waited for the end. Now I wonder

if we understood how happy those Danish

afternoons were. Most of the time we did not talk.

Often I took care of the baby while she did

housework. Changing him and making him laugh.

I would say Pittsburgh softly each time before

throwing him up. Whisper Pittsburgh with

my mouth against the tiny ear and throw

him higher. Pittsburgh and happiness high up.

The only way to leave even the smallest trace.

So that all his life her son would feel gladness

unaccountably when anyone spoke of the ruined

city of steel in America. Each time almost

remembering something maybe important that got lost.

                                            -  Jack Gilbert