TWO POEMS FROM SLIGO CREEK

1. THE STREAM

The stream of crystal water cleaves the woods
into two halves of sunlight taking shape
in the silence of the leaves.

Nothing in the quivering stillness reveals that inside
the sun has ignited the blaze
of autumn color. Thus
generations of leaves
take leave of the world.

No beauty can match
the leaf as it withers
and falls to the earth,
so the soil, where its carcass
turns to life,
is made fertile by the snows.