Eltanin

A strange morning;
The ivy winds across the ground
Heedless of bitter frost. The earth
Has known sun, the earth has known pity.
The bones of this place are silent.
Look well upon the land that your mothers knew,
The mothers before them
And the grandmothers before them
Wove this place with a delicate touch, sacrificed
Their long years, built unto this place
Not a garden but a similar kindness,
A place where the small things may flourish,
Seeds sown, fruits hanging low,
The golden dew-flowers blooming, the soundless set singing,
A place that knew the sun, as ineffable
As the last longing days
Of summers now gone.

But now,
This place knows frost, this place
Knows that of which I will not speak.
Enter, speaker, should you have a wish
Wordless yet: it has not
Been born of your lips

(but its time is soon).

- Poem