Eros Four

A thousand fires in my heart tonight
In the place where my love's memory lies
Where late the cicada croaked on the wind
Licked at the base of the coniferous pines;
There lies the dryness of the serotinous cone
And all that the world's ignorance allows
Or disavows.

A thousand ashes in my heart tonight
In the place where my love's memory lies
Where late perched the hawk athwart the boughs to stoop
Piled upon ashes and the impending snow;
There was the comfort of the charred Monterey
And all that the world's diversions provide
Yet cannot hide.

A thousand snowfalls in my heart tonight,
In the place where my love’s memory lies
Where late sifted the owl on whispering wing
Echoed amidst the rocks and the frozen firs;
There lies the deep and dim indifference of the night
And all that the world’s emptiness gives
Or steals, or borrows.

A thousand rain drops in my heart tonight
In the place where my love's memory lies
Where late the nightingale and the whippoorwill sang
Hissed in silence on the resinous bark;
There lies the dark eternal twist of the fir
And all that the world's silence gives
And the expanse above.