The Heights Come Twice
The Heights Come Twice
Sweet solstice open thy ivy door,
Let thy light explore
The skulking roots beneath the earth,
The sprouts begun to nurse,
The wisened plant with heavy fruit,
Heights to be of bamboo shoots,
The blades of grass in unison,
And every herbal hooligan.
But light, it fades, the glowing gaunt,
It battens down its door,
Sweet solstice death, thy cherrie lips,
Ah yes, I’ve kissed them before.