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Contemplative, Rolfe Humphries, in English Clear filters

ContemplativeRolfe Humphries

Air, from the Old Welsh

Like seaweed under water, The uneventful trees Move at my window In the mist of the morning. If I could count the leaves And multiply them by The number of seasons left me, And were every leaf a love, There would still not be enough To have before I die. Ah, what stubborn stuff I waken to find In the cells of the mind On the sills of the morning.
ContemplativeRolfe Humphries

Around Thanksgiving

Pure gold, they said in her praise: So I walk my autumn ways, Around me a golden haze From the ground, in leaves, in air— Oh, everywhere, everywhere!— To save, to spend, and to share. By the door, with evening light, Westering, lingering late Over lane and lawn and lot The leaves of the lilac hold The shape of the heart, pure gold, As if I need to be told, As if I need reminding, Toward chill November's ending, Of warmth and love abounding.

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