My fugitive years are all hastened away,
And I must ere long lie as lowly as they.
'Tis a sight to engage me, if anything can,
To muse on the perishing pleasures of man.
I speak of Eadha the Poplars felled by the woodman,
Once pointed to our heavens as far as they can,
To reveal our very small place in the universe ,
Its invitation to dance with it to reverse our curse.
I know you, poplar, I remember you back then.
We were introduced together when I was ten,
When the lonely lady on the moon came here with scrolls,
Spread her vast sleeves and read endlessly to bleach our souls.
All good souls that we gathered together were brushed
And what we had to say about that moment was hushed;
Especially when tears came from an upturned bowl of rain,
I now know our task was to soak these again and again.
At last I have adjusted to live with day and night,
Accept winter and summer as times of dark and light.
I now dance with the universe while other men cloy,
And now the poplar tree can only inspire me with joy.
Since I have tuned my muse to the trees
Voices once dim now surround me and please.
They also gift vast silences to give us a place,
To be aware of what surrounds us within each space.
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