1 All my memories of love
hang upon high stars.
All the souls I’ve lost to tears
now the autumn jars;
and the air around me here
thickens with their song;
sing again their nameless tunes,
sing again, and strong.

2 Willows in September
touch the water clear,
set among the rushes tall
of the flowing year.
Rising up from sunlit past
comes the shadowed sigh
running toward me silently,
love to fortify.

3 Many are the graceful hearts
hung upon this tree.
And it seems there’s room for mine
on these branches free;
and the sky above the tree,
whether wet or bright,
is my ease and comforting,
my good news and light.