Jane

It's quiet here now, after fifty years of seed, my face cast in stone, can still see the cave, where praise be, I hope to be laid, my body under snow, back to the country, where comes the big blow, gave me this place, to encourage serenity, he knew about feast days, geese with barren tones, flap the air above me, high on my shoulders, sing in their own way, late for the season, I'm just the same, in the blue dawn, wrapped so I'd freeze, in my hands a rose, the old loving need.