December Night ~ Merwin

December Night

The cold slope is standing in darkness

But the south of the trees is dry to the touch

The heavy limbs climb into the moonlight bearing feathers

I came to watch these

White plants older at night

The oldest

Come first to the ruins

And I hear magpies kept awake by the moon

The water flows through its

Own fingers without end

Tonight once more

I find a single prayer and it is not for men

The Lice, 1967.