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Poem	There were years when I knew the flower in the red stone walls now in the courtyard where I have returned with you we drink the wine of visitors the temperature of the cellars dusk is welling out of the dried blood of the masonry no hour remains on the sundial by now the owls of the tower corners are waking on their keepers' fists but it is still day out in the air and three falcons appear there over the courtyard no feathers on heads or breasts and they fly down to us to our wrists and between them then hover and perch just above us keeping us in sight waiting they are waiting for us this time they will come with us when we leave the island tonight for the rest of our lives
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