Late Elegies

for William Carlos Williams

Snow is the same as rain
(things are not
what they seem)
only white,
and this more so
since it is the first
of the year.
Williams loved winter,
the snow
‘white as death’
coming gently over all,
as he loved
all the seasons.
I thought of him
this morning
when the snow began,
how he would
like to have gone—
putting on
an old coat perhaps
and walking off
in the white
shining rain, turning
at the last
to wave good-by
to Floss. (I’ll be back
in the spring.)
Yes, winter
would have been
the right time for him.

for Theodore Roethke

If you go back far enough,
you will find
that you are really a tree
whose roots have spread
in many directions.

And you will find,
if you go back far enough,
that a small bird
is singing in your branches—
is singing, in spite of itself.