There is always music amongst the trees in the garden,
but our hearts must be very quiet to hear it.
~ M. Aumonier
The gold that was my hair has turned
silently to gray. Don’t pity me!
Everything’s been realized,
in my breast all’s blended and attuned.
-- Attuned, as all of distance blends
In the smokestack moaning on the outskirts.
And Love! A soul’s been realized:
The most deeply secret of your ends.