Renewal

Martins weave swiftly their patterns of criss-cross flight

Against great shifting mountains of yellow cloud,

Remembering sun. Now a lonely bird calls loud

In the drowsy silence; and edges of sky once bright

Have faded away. Last gleams of vanishing light

Silver the quiet leaves of the cottonwood tree.

Soft greyness thickens. One star-two-three!

A beetle blunders by in the darkening night.

No ache at human needs, no forcing smiles,

No restlessness and no desire! Growing

To oneness with space, I think of infinite miles,

Content to be nothing, like stone or tree; knowing

A soul's renewal that twilight hour when I

Am no more human than the star-sown sky.