LEAVES are clean trumpets blurting out time’s noise
Time can’t escape with leaves forever near.
Through lilting leaves of spring, time shouts his joys,
But time moans moodily when leaves are sere.
Have you not loved the hills in clouds of green,
Looked at the April skies and reached for them?
Threw sticks in splashing streamlets there between
These hills that shouldered to the sky’s white rim?
Life was before you and your blood ran free,
Life was before you and you were in love
When wind hummed tunes through loaves incessantly
In every hollow and each tiny cove.
You leaped the streams and shouted useless words
Against time in the leaves and all time said;
Rejoicing with life, leaves and singing birds,
Unmindful that these leaves would soon be dead.