He trudges slow back up the hill
Blue plastic trailing, empty now,
To where the others blew away
The gold that fell from every bough.
This thief of leaves, who thus endows
What some discard as trash unseen
With merit, sees next Summer’s good
In glowing hills of last year’s green.
So down the hill, though easier
To walk, yet heavy laden now,
He sees the woman coming, smiles
At gold and good in her endowed.
Then when at last his work is done,
They sit together for a while;
Her eyes that see the gold in him
Hold to his own and make him smile.
There’s nothing precious in these two
But what each in the other sees;
Envisioned universes thus
Contain love broad, deep as the seas.