poem for pastors

have we no shame?
all down the years
up from the south at break of day
out of the window a sea of green trees
she has a clear, wind-sheltered loveliness
under dusky laurel leaf
to be able to see every side of every question
the saddest of the year
mysterious night
with the meek, brown eyes
sing again the song you sung
i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night
just as my fingers on these keys