Tolstoy

When we are young
and soak up
the sun and rain
and even walk on ice
with guitars for peace
posters for justice
with every good refrain,

Then in the park and woods
as seasons age as stars
and spring welcomes
its birch trees,
our love compacts run away
as in a breeze of alabaster,

We will read you
and not cease
until we have understood
on our moving knees
the Russian master.