"Morning Occurence at Xanadu," Charles Wright

Swallows are flying grief-circles over their featherless young
Night-dropped and dead on the wooden steps.
The aspen leaves have turned gray,
                               slapped by the hard, west wind.
Someone who knows how little he knows,
Is like the man who comes to a clearing in the forest,
                                    and sees the light spikes,
And suddenly senses how happy his life has been.

From The Wrong End of the Rainbow, a chapbook published by Sarabande Books. Wright was also featured here last year with a poem from Buffalo Yoga, now out in paperback.