In the garden of little hopes,

tread lightly in case the willow
has not yet finished mourning.

Leave the hedges untrimmed
for a few more weeks, in case
the colonies of winged things

have not yet finished migrating.
Let the stone basin keep its ring
of verdigris: such faithfulness

is worth emulating. And let the dull
wool of evening cover the naked stones:
its old heart is rich with longing.


In response to Via Negativa: Schooling.

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