Winter wood
So I have put away the books
and I watch the last apples fall
from the frostry trees
and I have seen also
acorns streching red shoots
into the hard soil
and the white bark from the birches
was more to me than all the pages
and what I read there
bared my heart to the winter sun
and opened my brain to the wind
and suddenly
suddenly in the midst of that winter wood
I knew I had always been there
before the books
as after the books
there will be a winter wood
and my heart will be bare
and my brain open to the wind.
Kenneth White
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