I bear the griefs of time. <br />I feel the scars of breath <br />and lean upon my cane, <br />bent by the heavy years. <br /> <br />A small wound, freshly hacked <br />as in the twisted trunk <br />of some old olive tree <br />by a clean, kindly blade — <br /> <br />a clean, kind blade of words <br />that sang upon the breeze — <br /> <br />has drawn forth hidden sap <br />and turned my mind in pain. <br /> <br />But cool air bites my skin, <br />soft sunlight through the trees, <br />shadows on verdant lawns, <br />and fountain's steady splash <br />all take away the sting. <br /> <br />O Night, you've cleansed the world! <br />Your daily sacrament <br />allows my living heart <br />to love another day.<br /><br />Max Reif<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hym-to-night/
