Weather is Whether

Feverish. Exultant.
Eyes closed,
There were blushes,
but they were of yesterday.

There are songs heard,
And there are poems on the pages
of closed books.

Here in the now
that is not yesterday
is the tomorrow
that will appear
more as a ghost than as a sunrise.

Spirit is a gossamer thread.
The ego lies on the sand near falling rocks.

Where the once was
is an isness gone into a bare wall.
There in the lap of the gods
are the wind, the rain, the snow.

Weather is whether,
And whether is the weakness of the turning earth.

Harriet Zinnes

Quelle: Poetry Daily

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