The Secret

They cannot know a secret that I know, The city dwellers with their leaden eyes, Caught like a leaf in traffic’s ebb and flow, Deafened by all a city’s raucous cries; They cannot know it in the canyons there Where steel and stone deflect a mortal’s stare.

For I arose before the moon went down, Half-way toward morning. Dew-wet lay the world, And, in the sunrise, brighter than the town. Deep in the valley’s hush I found uncurled A bloodroot flower; I touched it with my hand, And I alone know spring is on the land.