Leaf Litter on Rock Face

Things are not
unmoving (or else what   

is ing there for?)
The things once-living   

fall on the never-living   
all the more movingly for the eye

that passes over them.
The wind wells up

to spill a trail
of onces off the nevers,

take opaque from eye
to mind, or near it —

every rocking takes some leaving
to a stonish spirit.

More Poems by Heather McHugh