The coming of night

One after another the
little oak trees
and daffodils
shadow in the spring.

A bright sky day.

The little stream
hurrying beneath
urgent as a yellow bud
fearlessly on its way.
To wake in the heart of a man,

startled at the gate
of smiling heaven
turning all upon
some circled love theme there...

a
nearly touch...
then go.

An easy concentration
of lesser and greater designs
catching one another
just in time,

as if by chance,

then passing
by some new and perfect way
to higher forms of play.

Will you come with me then
through a long list of summers
and see what remains?

A gentle conversation,
just you with another
and hardly a word spoken.
Inseparable at the end.

The end only a beginning
of the gathering of friends
and a long light song
at the coming of night.