"

With my words
I’ll make rocks
weep and trees
toss down
their branches
in despair.

In its heart
each object
guards a tear
so round
and absolute
it mirrors all
the passing scene.
Those clear globes
are the souls
of things.
I want to shatter
them. I want
to make them sing.

"

Gregory Orr, “His Grief,” from The Caged Owl: New & Selected Poems (Copper Canyon Press, 2002)

(Source: apoetreflects, via 2am-poetry)