Summer to Autumn
How odd
To stand on a hanging bridge
And watch the moon at night,
Like a fish riding
On the swell of the waves.
You have come at last,
And so I let go the dragon-flies
Which I have held captive
In my five fingers.
If a swarm of June-bugs
Could be herded together,
They would resemble
The ocean waves on a moonlight night.
Though the ocean roars
And the sons of men mourn,
The flowers of the bindweed in the sand
Do not even blink their eyes.
28 
