Some Trees

These are amazing: eachJoining a neighbor, as though speechWere a still performance.Arranging by chanceTo meet as far this morningFrom the world as agreeingWith it, you and IAre suddenly what the trees tryTo tell us we are:That their merely being thereMeans something; that soonWe may touch, love, explain.And glad not to have inventedSuch comeliness, we are surrounded:A silence already filled with noises,A canvas on which emergesA chorus of smiles, a winter morning.Placed in a puzzling light, and moving,Our days put on such reticenceThese accents seem their own defense.