poem for dad

there are three ways in which men take
in the sphere
she must go back, she said
last night the full moon laid a cloth of white
high walls and huge
simply speaking
it tells of good old times
suddenly, out of dark and leafy ways
backward, turn backward
i make my shroud, but no one knows
i gazed upon the glorious sky
though i am little as all little things
do you hear the rain?
i was a goddess ere the marble found me