Art by Cathleen Cohen
You wandering flute,
I reach to you through evening gold.
Birds flit, willows bend to rivers.
I reach to you through evening gold.
Birds flit, willows bend to rivers.
I reach to you, stumbling
on stones, on translations.
In forests you hid during war
on stones, on translations.
In forests you hid during war
then emerged, trilled
green summer notes
to this world, this
green summer notes
to this world, this
multicolored coat.
I hear you croon from mountains.
Winds stream
I hear you croon from mountains.
Winds stream
through crevices,
fragments of your voice
I try to gather —
fragments of your voice
I try to gather —
from litter on the road,
multicolored
shards.
multicolored
shards.
