and two poets greet <br />speak what of <br />when they meet <br />(setting sun and then) <br />drink tea; speak zen. <br /> <br />not spoken so much more <br />(silence broken) <br />by silent knocking <br />on the door <br />splintered fragments to adore. <br /> <br />starlight cannot come in <br />watched from afar <br />(silver hair bright more) <br />when poets speak <br />what came before.<br /><br />David Taylor<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/two-poets-m-ee-t-cummings/
