The Garden of Poets

Star-filling nights  
fallen to earth    
the fire that smoulders 
‘who’d shoot at children’ 
bed made of swallow’s tails
the horses standing silently  
the white ones the black ones
the black one with white
spots and smears

your donkey eyes
won’t extinguish them
the snow lights up the night
shadow the flakes
or stand still like a cactus
ponder Moses’ beard
no frogs that croak
no house is cloaked
not a star that broke  

the tramps were persecuted  
when angels were muted 
the wind carries the clouds
the clouds the rain
take shelter under the ferns
mirror-surface the pond
herbs to ward-off leeches
and the wild lemon
in the Garden of Poets

DE TUIN DER POËTEN