April’s new apple buds on an old lichened tree;
Slender shadows quiver, celandines burn in the orchard grass –
This moment’s image: how long does a moment stay?
I look and look away, and look again, and see
The morning light has changed a little, the linnet flown; but who can say
When one moment’s present became the next moment’s past
To which this now was still the yet-to-be?
It seems, in this old walled garden, time does not pass,
Only mind wanders and returns; I watch attentively
And see not one green blade move out of its place.
The Easter daffodils, the shadows and the apple-trees
Phrases in music continuous from first to last.
To be is to be always here and now.
The green linnet flits from bough to bough.