The trees, good Seraphim,
begin to sing
at dawn
about making sugar
out of light
and the happy traffic
between high and low –
as if that were all
*
I expect compensation
for all I don’t
say –
for each time I stop
before coming
to an obvious conclusion
or an uncertain end –
for my discretion.
*
(Music needs silence
more than silence needs music.)
Photograph © Alexander Tiupa