Thoughts in the Night
by Marcel Aime Duclos

I
As if the sun bows to our whims,
obeys the pleas voiced in our hymns.
As if the pluck of haughty eyes
can fabricate clear, honest sighs.
As if the dawn can rouse the night,
can bid the moon withdraw her light.

II
I say you cannot hold the wind
from strewing soil on open fields,
from lifting flocks of errant geese.
I say you cannot hold the wind.
It blows without. It blows within.

III
You cannot still a swaying bell
full circle ringing. I can tell
when noontime Angelus invites
all villagers to olden rites:
you cannot hold the wind. Cannot.
For nowhere is there such a knot.



 

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