FOR THADE CORREA

This morning when you lift the veil
of sleep and take her hand and drink
from her eyes as from a deep Germanic
pool, feel again the stirrings
of her voice which were infused in you
without your noticing.

*

As August recedes into the slow
September of your thoughts, do not
wish again for the fullness of summer,
the shining pond between the trees,
but hold it within you, unbroken
and invisible as a circle drawn in water.

*

Remember that nothing is ever lost, only
transfigured: the river flowing back
into the unseen spring, the errant
star returning to the fold at dawn,
the horns of the stag
breaking mercilessly into bloom.