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More poems by W.S. MerwinW.S. Merwin | Print this page.Print | View and Write CommentsComments | Books by W.S. MerwinBooks by W.S. Merwin

December Night

W.S. Merwin

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

Added: 14 Sep 2001 | Last Read: 22 Nov 2017 1:35 PM | Viewed: 5271 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/1691/ | Viewed on 22 November 2017.
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