More than one has said it:
that love is of this world only
the world of a willow
reaching for a river
as the river
goes its way
and of a nuthatch
nesting in a beechwood tree
as light devolves
from day into night
The true reckoning
of this world
is the way we come
to know things twice
in the wonder first
and then the remembering
the bitterroot blossom
before it fades
and everything else we lose
but love anyway.


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