The cold slope is standing in darkness br But the south of the trees is dry to the touch br br The heavy limbs climb into the moonlight bearing feathers br I came to watch these br White plants older at night br The oldest br Come first to the ruins br br And I hear magpies kept awake by the moon br The water flows through its br Own fingers without end br br Tonight once more br I find a single prayer and it is not for menbr br William Stanley Merwinbr br