63

Worn Like Spring

How cool comes circling spring

by memory worn upon

a measured sentience! Heart

and mind, found harboring

immortal years, are done

with holding days apart.

Nights too, and Day from Night….

Though innocence may guess

at truth, the patterned years

alone shape pattern, bright

with what unconsciousness

groped toward through blinding fears.

So I, beyond the test

of seasons circling, know

myself true to all time

this spring, cool on the crest

where all tomorrows flow

in one great spiral climb

with yesterdays, the known

and unknown universe:

not met, but one. Then why

this craving (wild bird flown,

untamable) to curse

all rest beneath God’s sky?—

as if no spring were done….

As if, earth-caught, unfree,

the red bloodbeat were bent

on proving, one by one,

each perfect irony

of heart-turned-mind, unspent

and still changing beyond

the human range. Oh green

return, then I will sing

you my vein-climbing bond,

unwinding through mind’s seen

Night into the heart of Spring.