Sunday, February 26, 2006

Midpoint, Maybe

by Rachel Hadas

No longer so much when did it begin
As how far does it stretch,
The border where, the frame invisible,
But there is a frame. And here we are
In one another’s arms, with the illusion
That in some sudden switch we are abruptly
Closer to the end than the beginning.

Measuring time back from a beginning
Starts to get old, at which point we begin
Measuring it forwards toward an end.
We measurers dawdle in a still green garden
Going slowly golden.
And then the leaves will fall,
As one of us will, followed by the other.


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