Running (a Noumenal poem)

Running

I have not gone away

although the autumn leaves hear no whisper

and no woodland trail bears any mark

and on the surface no ripples

disturb lake or pond

in the quiet empty park no sign is found

in the city streets at night there is no sound

although the whirl of starlings takes no real pattern

and the surface of the sea is cold and calm

though the chimneys breathe no smoke

though the mines are shut

there is no precious metal

despite the shifting plates

and the melting caps

there is no sign of slowing the system down

though I being born on the shortest day

face the longest dawn

although I be dead and gone and the ghost

be forever wholly banished

though all the merry rivers run dry

and the ancient hills give way

I hold the whole world in my hand

and I haven't gone away