Into the Trees
Fern-shadows, and the tall magnolia flowers
Drenching the air with perfume and with light,
This is the chosen, the appointed night
The shining instant in your Book of Hours.
You stand a moment listening to the bees
Recite some ancient rune, some ageless charm,
Then, light bow swinging, fiddle under arm
You walk into the silence of the trees.
from The Luthier: poems (Reed, 1966), © Ruth Gilbert 1966, used by permission of the author.
Recording from the Waiata New Zealand Poetry Sound Archive 1974.