Wooden Things

By HOWARD GRIFFIN
ARCHWAYS and passageways,
Diminishing in time,
Door jambs that obtrude the feet,
Rafters of grime.
A cradle-Ark, neatly joined,
Without a wreath,
Set in motion, to and fro,
By initial breath.
We dream our early nights upon
A vaster bed of pine;
But at the end our dreams converge
To a thinner line.
Coffins, cradles, beds of state;
A wooden bow; a wooden dart;
And plain little wooden rings
With initials charred.
Thimbles and theater swords,
The sadness of wooden things,
Old saints with wooden lyres
And moonlit, wooden wings.