The Winding Shroud
II. Let the indolent seasons turn their way; The orb in space is spinning round the sun and we ourselves our respective lives, live . Time ' from now, this autumn parting, with browning leaves we leave and fly,
one year and one month after i dropped the stone down the dark well i still wait to hear it splash silence, silence, a whisper of wind is that my heart knocking against the hollow walls? is that the stone skipping over the mossy bricks?
How was it we came to be there: Our backs to the restless ash, listening to it whisper of the warmth of a September day Picking at blades of yellowing grass I felt something pass overhead, a shadow