NATURA MORTE

1 5 R N A T U R A M O R T E C H A R L E S W R I G H T All life, as someone might o√er, rises out of death And longs to return to it. It’s in that longing that our days shine out, and glow forth, And are our comfort into the dark. For instance, tonight, in the faint glare of the new moon, Shadow surrounds us, The tiny torches of the rhododendron leaf tips Trouble our eyesight, and call us into their hymnal deep underground. Well, we know those songs by heart. Singalong Suzies, we tap out their black notes with our pink nails. We are their chorus and Mass, And process across the yard. We dip our fingers into the cold font. ...