What do I care

that the stream is trampled,

the sand on the stream-bank

still holds the print of your foot:

the heel is cut deep.

I see another mark

on the grass ridge of the bank—

it points toward the wood-path.

I have lost the third

in the packed earth.

But here

a wild-hyacinth stalk is snapped:

the purple buds—half ripe—

show deep purple

where your heel pressed.

A patch of flowering grass,

low, trailing—

you brushed this:

the green stems show yellow-green

where you lifted—turned the earth-side

 Prev. P 13/64 next