When everyone had gone
I sat in the library
With the small silent tree,
She and I alone.
How softly she shone!
Leonidas of Tarentum (Italy, third century BCE)
You—passing through on foot and alone—don’t drink
this sun-staled water, clouded with slime. Beyond
these grazing cows, much farther uphill, go under
Winter Trees – William Carlos Williams
Augustine Chanting – Daniel Corrie
…the drops of my time are too precious. …
The wholeness stands. Its outlines cloud and alter.
The shape remains. It lives into reshaping.
A page recites the psalm, held whole in silence.
Memory traces contours of the psalm’s shape.