And the last of these poems in the sequence,
and the last I'll be reading this evening
is in the form of a riddle.
It's to be seen as written on a card
or a label attached to a gift in the shape of a heart.
"Open this and you will see a waste, a nearly naked tree that
will not rest till it is bare but shivers in the air scraping
at its yellow leaves.
Winter, when the tempest heaves it
riots in the heavens and convulsions of self punishment.
What cannot rest, that it is there the branches crack
and fibers tear."
Thank you.
[APPLAUSE]