WE ARE PASSING

We are passing
to another world

with fresh anemones
in our hands

they will survive
all barbed wire

beyond the wheat of the pale
in villages of freezing grey

My heart hears feathers
counted on flying wings

beating on tall grass ravines
and murmuring shadows

Heaven knows each village
all branches of a lost family

by the light of river
and now at peace,

though the rain
falls on six poplars

it is quickly covering over
the sky memories of Autumn.