Monday, February 14, 2022

Still Morning


It appears now that there is only one
 age and it knows
 nothing of age as the flying birds know
 nothing of the air they are flying through
 or of the day that bears them up
 through themselves
 and I am a child before there are words
 arms are holding me up in a shadow
 voices murmur in a shadow
 as I watch one patch of sunlight moving
 across the green carpet
 in a building
 gone long ago and all the voices
 silent and each word they said in that time
 silent now
 while I go on seeing that patch of sunlight

--W.S. Merwin
photo by Henri Cartier Bresson