opening buds

*

 

A handful of dust could hide your signal when I did

not know its meaning.

Now that I am wiser I read it in all that hid it before.

It is painted in petals of flowers; waves flash it from

their foam; hills hold it high on their summits.

I had my face turned from you, therefore I read the

letters awry and knew not their meaning.

 

Rabindranath Tagore, Fruit-Gathering

 

*

Done