A Lesson from the Old Man

When avarice has shut its jaws, The water can still sing, still move, And time coiled in the abash of stems, The street replays its past— A tree, roots cracked, bore a new flower. There is longing in the stone, Lady, In the mouths of the coiling roots, That take to elements— Through summers, we grow into their songs, Raise our sounds above all laughter,

Leaves landing in sun’s laughing breath As noon snared beneath, like wise stones, simply fell, Turned the water, a wing, towards our laughter,” Now we listen, let them unfold their rhymes. The nibbled light arrives in dawn’s hour, The roots have pierced their shrouds, rising.

• Derek Walcott