Unnatural Is a Pause of Heart
unnatural is a pause of heart,
streams crown'd slow with rusted leaves,
time's slow slide in autumn's light,
must move, always, on to the right,
the tillage of the mortal grasp,
sweat and salted leather both,
of blistered skin on graven plow,
left crumbled shocks of past and now,
grasp the simple and be wise,
ships soon founder, days will pass,
proud men smirk with worldly brides,
while dreadnoughts rust in firth and tides,
on wrinkled brow cold wind blows bone,
dry rattled under parchment skin,
collect the dew, release the sun,
a child's face shines now for more than one,
warmed by friction years in love's cruel reign,
the fleshy cleat held blood coil rope,
storm anchored both the quick and dead,
can generations clot the minutes bled?
but love, ah! again with love,
shivered cool in morning's light,
in small hands fragile forever waits,
cozened the morrow from clever fates.
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