Vernon Mooers writes

And When Leaves Have Fallen                            

 

     Birds shiver in their nests

                of brittle twigs;

      We have harvested the corn

      brought the pumpkins in

                from frost-covered fields;

      ice has formed on ponds

      like shards of paper-thin glass.

 

      The winds of December have come

      and it is so very cold -- too bitter

      for me to take another long winter:

      my bones cry out for warmth

      my heart from loneliness.

      Like a trumpeter in battle

      this is my swan-song.

      Kaeul, I want to sleep

      hibernate through the spring floods

      until the flowers re-appear.

      Spout and bloom in yellows and blues

      like Oriental street-corners

              on gentle nights

              when music drifts and

              warm winds

              blow in from the sea.