Amelia Fielden


                                                    your silence
                                                    seems inpenetrable–
                                                    this time
                                                    I won't be seduced
                                                    into speaking first

                                                    the warm light
                                                    on persimmon boughs
                                                    over white walls . . .
'falling in love again,
                                                    I can't help it

                                                    a bronze Kannon
                                                    curling slender fingers
                                                    beckons me
                                                    into her ancient past
                                                    at the hill-top temple

                                                    the scarlet branches
                                                    of maples mirrored
                                                    in a pond
                                                    suddenly set a-sway
                                                    by flocks of white ducks

                                                    yellow leaves one by one,
                                                    the mother tree
                                                    lives another autumn–
                                                    kiss me, and don't look back