The white ducks fly on past the sun, Their wings flash silver at the moon. While waters rush down the mountain tongue My organs play a circus tune. I dance to the wonder of your feet And sing to the joy of your knees. The cold white dress on the mountain breast Paints the frozen trees. The maple plants patterns in the sky Its leaves to kiss the wind While scores of glittering bugs and flies Dance polkas on her limbs. I whistle symphonies of your face And laugh for your hair so fine. In startled greens of playground grass A child jumps rope to rhyme. Reeds and brass, the marching drums Make a joyous sound Trees bend low with nuts and plums Then fall to find the ground. I hunger for your porpoise mouth And stand erect for love. The sun burns up the winter sky And all the earth is love.