retirement poem

i have come into the desert because my soul is athirst
under dusky laurel leaf
thoughts through my head
i saw god. do you doubt it?
as it
short and sweet, and we've come to the end of it
love me at last, or if you will not
made up of loveliness alone
among the smoke and fog of a december afternoon
looking beyond
she might have known it in the earlier spring
if it
there is an hour of peaceful rest
pushing out, struggling vainly