The Mute Sky

yes I would send a warning to the sky to bring a rain to quench desire the clouds are cruel and mute in summer half a life has passed away a desiccated lily droops a lizard seeks the shade so I must write the stuff of mortal grief the setting sun and destiny the tears that will not fall a poet feels the seasons of the heart the hot the cold the wet the dry the short supply of air and yet he often fails to heed the call till old and weak it is too late to make a final plea and so it is the scream becomes a moan and light becomes a silent moon that sinks into the west