Soon.

Hodgkin, Gull's Eggs in a Box, 1918

SPRING

The glass stems of the clouds are breaking

the gray flowers are caught up

and carried in silence to their invisible mountain

a hair of music is flying

over the line of cold lakes

from which our eyes were made

everything in the world has been lost and lost

but soon we will find it again

and understand what it told us when we loved it

W.S. Merwin