Saturday, February 13, 2010

The Night Migrations--Louise Gluck

This is the moment when you see again
the red berries of the mountain ash
and in the dark sky
the birds’ night migrations.

It grieves me to think
the dead won’t see them—
these things we depend on,
they disappear.

What will the soul do for solace then?
I tell myself maybe it won’t need
these pleasures anymore;
maybe just not being is simply enough,
hard as that is to imagine.


WiseAcre said...

Way to cheer me up.
hard as that is to imagine

I'll just have to enjoy it all while I can. See ya later, I've got a waterfall to go check out today.

Benjamin Vogt said...

Sarcasm? And don't you have enough forzen water pics? Ice. Ice. Baby.