LILACS AND CRAB-APPLES IN BLOSSOM
Lilacs and crab-apples in blossom
and here and there a wild cherry
abandoned in an old farmyard
like an unfashionable chandelier
that kept on dancing with itself
long after the stars went out.
If for nothing else I was born
to tell the trees how beautiful they are.
What an elegance and grace of earth.
Embodiments of time in the concrete.
Brides at the weddings of matter.
The solid become real. Mind
when it gives up looking for itself.
Fountains and clouds.
Life whispering into its own ear
about the birds and the bees
in a native language of its own
that blooms like the demotic tongues
of a Babylonian renaissance
that doesn’t need a translation.
Life says so much without meaning to.