North Easter

Wise men nearly as old as death

Wait out the autumn storm then walk the woods,

Wishing for wisdom-too wise to wish for love. '

North Easter, they are scholars of bright trees,

Pondering why sometimes in one great oak

Six branches scatter scarlet but no more.

Feet among fern in their dun clothes the men,

Faces upturned for knowledge, rove within

These shelves, these flights and terraces of red.

They bend to study how a livered tan

Covers the yellow lacquer and see how,

Punctual to color, final black spots in.

Yet distantly the trees still stain the dusk

With their illumination. Wise men move under

Russet arches as though through pergolas of green.