Windowdrops

A roving longing, out in the brook
and its nervous eddies,
makes itself known
in the shivers of the light

A few hymns from the book
hailing lands no one sees
men and women of some renown
dance with bliss into their night

At the windows I look at the drops flailing
unleashed, keeping to drop without failing

Look at the beautiful land,
under a blanket of clouds, airily she longs
to the sparse rays of winter songs
Dots and stripes of impressionism in my hand

As the land thus sings her lofty sleepy tune
of her fantasies of a feverishly warm June
I with her cast a waking eye in the long sleep
as the year goes into nights so deep ...