The Stones

The stones we have thrown I hear
fall, glass-clear through the year. In the valley
confused actions of the moment
fly howling from tree-top
to tree-top, quieting
in air thinner than now's, gliding
like swallows from mountain-top
to mountain-top till they
reach the furthest plateaus
along the edge of existence. Where
all our deeds fall
glass-clear
to no ending
except ourselves.

Copyright Credit: Tomas Transtromer, "The Stones" from Bright Scythe. Copyright © 2015 by Tomas Transtromer.  Reprinted by permission of Sarabande Books, Inc..
Source: Bright Scythe (Sarabande Books, 2015)