Seeing the signs of a green, immortal longing

(Green as the leaf-filtered light of the spring sun
on the gaping face of a man half-sadly drowning
in a forest pool)

                        in the quietly intimate manner
That the softly shifting trees and grass unconsciously
Assumed in whispering to each other

                                                        (the way
a man assumes the manner of a god,
and does not spoil it by noticing),

                                                  He wrote them down.