The Beautiful Changes
One wading a Fall meadow finds on all
sides
The Queen Anne’s Lace lying like lilies
On water; it glides
So from the walker, it turns
Dry grass to a lake, as the slightest shade of
you
Valleys my mind in fabulous blue Lucernes.
The beautiful changes as a forest is
changed
By a chameleon’s tuning his skin to it;
As a mantis, arranged
On a green leaf, grows
Into it, makes the leaf leafier, and
proves
Any greenness is deeper than anyone knows.
Your hands hold roses always in a way that
says
They are not only yours; the beautiful
changes
In such kind ways,
Wishing ever to sunder
Things and things’ selves for a second finding, to
lose
For a moment all that it touches back to wonder.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAO_kMuZlWkKpJA6RNWtRrYFtk95rhXoNfiXFC8QticrQQdGHmoXxKNiiRqNFbh3cpCI7TkfxiODHqk8kyMKZDAoGZGhOxE3bDgo78yxb8lum9y7ZU7Ja0W1YZWpTkhezQiwXQjY2NAz4/s400/RichardWilbur_NewBioImage.jpg)
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