Reaching,
An ancient two-handed Arm
Breathes;
Holding and Held in the dark Earth
The downward probe in delicate balance,
Precise,
For the upward reach of the febrile fingers
That sieve the deliverer wind; the destroyer wind.
And the leaves like tears run down the hollow cheek
Of bare December
To fall in regular rows
And line the seminal grave,
      Reaching.