O to sit again under the flowering apple tree,to smell the sweet fragrance,and to hear the bee busy in the blossom.The quiet meditation of pink and whitefills me with joyand sings in my heart.
Today I sat withBoth my lovesToday I held themIn my armsOne love is soft and warmA small bundle of wriggling fleshA ball of laughterA tiny hand in mineOne love is tall and strongWrinkles where once was firm, smooth skinAn intense love that feeds my needsA gentle love, drawing me to feed his needsBoth loves are mineOne is new wonderThe other … fine aged wine
Walking the rocky shoreCold wind from the Baltic Sea washes over meOn a rocky outcrop she sitsMysterious black, white crowned headThe Eagle watches meFollows me as I search among shoalsCalls to me as IHunt through blueberries and arctic orchidsDay after day she comes to see what I have foundWe have become friendsTalking to each other as the sea rolls nearbyI tell her my time to leave is soonI tell her I will miss her companySuddenly, she flies over my head and …With a final call offers me a giftA gift unbidden, un-expected,
Do you know the differencebetween alone and lonely?I love being alonewalking among treeswading in the water on the seashorelistening to the silence of the nightsmelling the roses in my gardenI am not lonely then, andI can be aloneI am lonely whenno one askshow I am doingno one asksis there anything I can dono one callsjust to talk about nothing
I shall return again; I shall returnTo laugh and love and watch with wonder-eyesAt golden noon the forest fires burn,Wafting their blue-black smoke to sapphire skies.I shall return to loiter by the streamsThat bathe the brown blades of the bending grasses,And realize once more my thousand dreamsOf waters rushing down the mountain passes.I shall return to hear the fiddle and fifeOf village dances, dear delicious tunesThat stir the hidden depths of native life,Stray melodies of dim remembered runes.I shall return, I shall return again,To ease my mind of long, long years of pain.
Here is the soundless cypress on the lawn :It listens, listens. Taller trees beyondListen. The moon at the unruffled pondStares. And you sing, you sing.That star-enchanted song falls through the airFrom lawn to lawn down terraces of sound,Darts in white arrows on the shadowed ground ;While all the night you sing.My dreams are flowers to which you are a bee,As all night long I listen, and my brainReceives your song, then loses it againIn moonlight on the lawn.Now is your voice a marble high and white,Then like a mist on fields of paradise ;Now is a raging fire, then is like ice,Then breaks, and it is dawn.