A Grave

The forest darkens as rain weight falls – The quiet waters call to me through the trees. Within the dark, soft blind strokes I hear growth that in the unlighted binds,

A whispering peace cools over petals, And invisible callers sing like winds. Here is another root where my bones lie, A forest claimed hushed deep and feigning.

The flowers knew the ghost of ancient poet
Wander beyond the canopy
And stillness sees my cranium worn
Into the body of bruised silence.

• Marianne Moore