Lies

Dry seed, watered, grows

To twig-tree which creaks and crows

In cold wind, fragile, blows.

Fall-figs litter, here

Canopies; where river bears

Streams of winding tears:

Ebb, flow into sea-

Bed, and silt where, hidden, lies

Raindrops in fall-eyes.

Lonely, I bear all my lies.