Early Autumn

ALL the long night
Crickets in the grasses.
The dusk growing colder —
Another year passes.
Another year older;
And the wind and the stars,
And my blood growing colder.

Stretch out your fingers
Lest, groping, I miss them;
As in their smoothness,
Now wrinkled, I kiss them.

You will see morning
With birds in the hollow.
Spring will be lonely,
But soon you will follow.