DISTANT
 III

An evening countryside. A voice
On the highway fades away.
From lifeless pools a silence deep
And pensive seems to stray.

Near where we stand, the water tells
A secret. 'Tis a thread,
A river, with the infinite
Reflected in its bed.

The toads sing, and a cricket still
His litany prolongs.
If only one could kiss my hands
That, moving the warm, red gold
Of the branches, waken up the flights
On the wild birds they hold!