Please forgive us.
We are coming out of the leaves and shadows
to bring you gifts.
At the first of wintry mornings,
As the sun becomes, They shall all be placed in
clusters
At the edges of your garden.
Regard them in your shivering walk;
A gathering of snails,
A clutch of mushrooms, and here and there
A patch of moss.
Silver, white and green are these, the colours of our
gifts to you -
Mark them well and
forgive us -
We are leaving now
and will not come again.