From the sea up, through dogs
Descending on the noisy barks,
By lighthouse no more for light
But of broken mortar and steel,
I enter garden of morning park,
Walking on the fallen almonds
Half eaten by red- beaked bird.
Fallen leaves are gems of a fall.
They fall in ripe fallen almond
Falling to the June’s mild wind
Fallen a bit short of yearly rain
In haze that blinded rain’s fail.
A wind only stirred birds’ songs
Their beaks red with fruit flesh.