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Now that the rain is spent,
Trees and the purple-headed timothy and the tall grasses
Are all netted over with seed pearls.
Far as the eye can reach the sea is pale as a pearl,
The air a pool of stillness,
And so still the wild roses their petals make porcelain faces.
From leaf to leaf a raindrop slips,
Stillness upon stillness.
And sprawling over the living grass and the roses,
A dead apple tree with beauty in it's bare bones,
Never to put forth again a pink and white cloud of witnesses,
Suddenly blossoms with yellow birds in its grey limbs,
And is almost alive again with music.
Love, O Love, let the birds happen to me.
Let the wild, sweet voices remember me.
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