poem for an autumn wednesday

I looked in my heart while the wild swans went over. 

And what did I see I had not seen before?

Only a question less or a question more;

Nothing to match the flight of wild birds flying.

Tiresome heart, forever living and dying,

House without air, I leave you and lock your door.

Wild swans, come over the town, come over

The town again, trailing your legs and crying!

~ Wild Swans by Edna St. Vincent Millay