grandma poem

for these white arms about my neck
i see all human wits
your body's motion is like music
why do you always stand there shivering
when the veil from the eyes is lifted
i have heard them in the night
melancholy, blue it was
i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night
by the shore, by the sea
the agony of having too much power
out of me unworthy and unknown
the ancient songs
do the boys and girls still go
i sometimes wonder if it's really true