A. Y. Winters

From “Monodies”

AS the wind rolls across the flowing treetops, so the

Delicate haze, blue flowing into green, rolls

Over the violet and brown undulations of these mountains.

Blue mist flowing into green mist over

The violet and brown undulations of the earth. Thus

Life flows into Death above Time’s translucent contours.

These mountains are the fingers of a sleeping hand. No

Jewels adorn its tawny tapering fingers. But in the silence

It moves forward through the delicate haze

(Blue flowing into green), while no one watches.

O you of the blind silent eyes, who stand

Your feet among the mountains and your head lost

Above the heavens translucent as Time’s contours—

And no jewels adorn your forehead, nor do your blind eyes

Peer toward the Mystery, being themselves the Mystery—

Move you a step nearer in the silence, your feet stirring

The delicate mist like soft sand

(Blue flowing into green), while no one watches.