A Little Song

She beyond all others in deepest dreams comes

back. You shun sleep, lying in darkness, breath held,

hearing that voice over the rustling dry grass

breathing in darkness.

Walk for miles each day, with a dog to watch, pen,

paper, ink, try, focus attention somewhere

else. But Mi, Sol, Re go the notes her voice slips

into your blind heart.

Once you knew each inch of her body. No more.

Only one thing, caught in your faithful ear, still

lives. Your eyes lie. Even in dreams the face fades.

Only a singing.

She's your cane these days. When you tap, she tells how

far you've strayed. Tap trees by the road, you hear how

hollow things are. Listen. You'll hear in high limbs

voices of dry leaves.