Elves

 In the kingdom of enlightenment,
Beneath the uproar in the upper air,
Where life is mostly not fatigue and grief,
(Though there is rest for the weary,
And there is comfort for those who mourn);
Where, in the serenity of reason,
In the silence at the bottom of the wind,
All the questions of life have answers . . .

We pray for those who live above,
Who somehow live in the blinding light
Of summer in the upper air.

For though they burn, they are not consumed,
And we hear their voices in the wind,
And we cannot tend in peace the wild garden.

1981