I am waiting. I’m waiting.
Where the stars meet the sound I am waiting.
I am here at the gate and can stare
Down the lane where the blackberries bake on their vines.
I’ll be waiting
Until they are drowned in the darkness of trees.
I’ve been waiting since they
Could be plucked from the earth with one hand.
But the lane carved in chalk
Is the same
And the ruts in the dust
And I know that the road
Can be seen and know when the stars fall
Somebody will walk to and beg me
To open the gate. And then what’s the pleasure
Of guarding if one lets
Just anyone in?