I Was Born Humble

I was born humble. At the foot of mountains

My face was set upon the immensity of earth

And stone; and upon oaks full-bodied and old.

There is so much writ upon the parchment of leaves,

So much of beauty blown upon the winds,

I can but fold my hands and sink my knees

In the leaf-pages. Under the mute trees

I have cried with this scattering of knowledge,

Beneath the flight of birds shaken with this waste

Of wings.

I was born humble. My heart grieves

Beneath this wealth of wisdom perished with the leaves.