SOMETIMES, I CRY

I first saw you in the woods
at noontime—unwrapping the pain
head forward folding back the tears

as a passerby I nodded and went on
only to tell the story each time
on village lanes with my lithe leg pleading
when I too came into the woods

sometimes, I cry
when I see proud, skeptical minds
trained by the heights of the Ivory Staff
to bake souls on the road to the Ivory Tower