To Micheal
Those that know the wheel of seasons
Notice nothing but its turning.
Time, they say, is love's dimension;
Love, the fruit of trial and tears.
But the touch that plucks our passion
Stills the passion in returning.
Come to rest, our hands are open
Bringing hours, bringing years:
Seed and sun in sacred bargain
Form the garden's chaste confusion.
Harvest's Bacchanalian order
Dances from their common form.
Speech, the hollow-reeded organ
Noting all the fruits of seasons
Knows that Spring must follow Winter
Each its measure to perform —
Does not know that Spring and Winter
Tune their orbits to a balance;
Does not grasp the open center
Of the flute and seed and wheel:
Like the sun among the branches,
Like the touch at speech's cadence,
Like the seed cast by the dancers,
In time's circle, love is still.
Happy Birthday
Best wishes for all your years!!
Love Always
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