while i was waiting...

for a computer..
i found this quaint little book of Canadian poetry
Poetry 62
flipping through the pages, i found
"Soliloquy to Absent Friends" by D.G. Jones

-v-

The last pure leaves
struggle in the autumn wind;
hosts have fallen, mulching the ground-
would that all the seasons of the soul
expired beneath so rich a shroud.
Yet more to be admired - the clear
structure of the trees, patient for winter, hold
bleak converse with themselves.
Let us be bare,
let us be poor,
such poverty makes honest souls,
and solitude is capital for love.
Out of that silent contemplation of the trees,
amid the vast condour of the snows,
rich in loneliness, will come
drenched in sunlight, as from empty seas,
myriad wings and leaves - as though our tongues
grew green with language and informed a world.