WANTING

The new apples are in
	companionably rosy, smiling
warm sweet breath
	through their splintery cribs.
(It will not be enough.)

The trees have muscled off
	their summer clothes
and sent their vital fluids
	to the inmost part.
(It will not be enough.)

When nothing stays the pendulum
that shatters every fragile day,
to fiercely hold one piece of earth
	one tree - one view of sunrise -
will not be enough
	not the wings of robins
nor the shells of turtles
	the tails of dolphins
nor the dancing of bees
, , , and I am left with arms
	full of old moons
and the rounded edges of things.

Sometimes in a small deep place
	there will be snow falling - 
coldly unremembering, silently white,
and who will dare to stay
for the final walking of the sun
and the darkening of the waters?

			Lucille Murphy