Three Girls
The woods suggested it, the forest of urges,
And we undressed and walked among the leaves
To let the skin release its impulses
In little starts and pleasures lighter than real.
The delicate touch of woods checking the current
Between the flesh and world was most to be trusted
Of all the possible ways of coming to be
More than the personal triumph of the child.
Leaves, fronds, stones, mosses, brooks, tendrils and flowers,
I thank you for the delicacy of those hours
Letting the impulse out, the shower in
Of quick cool contact and the bars of sunlight.
Into the forest vanishing for persuasion
We found the dusky place and golden haven
Fern wand and cedar bough gradually gave-
Still is all lover’s touch partly of leaves.
From a River Boat
I saw out the open doorway of the hold
the river writing a page
line on line this is a way to read
Here it seems that to move
through wrinkles of running water is to be all we need
The sun is not shining the wind
is only enough to set up little waves
To be absorbed in this writing in this silvery word
is to by-pass identity it has seemed
to be all the way composed
in a quiet meditation obliquely told
Look too at the water to see an outlook of history
a written page flowing along into fresh impulse
here charging the surface of words the silent and spoken records
and the wind turning the lines into another outburst