The season has come for parting
Of rhizomes, thoughts, and ways.
An end outquickens our starting;
So runs the world away.

And of all those things you’d give me
Before this night unbind us,
I give you in the effigy
Of the bearded iris.

For the soul of things riots below
The ground-soil, words, and waves;
And this swollen, creeping sub-growth
Flowers again someday.

And those flowers bind this contract
Gathered to remind us
That, returning, you might bring back
Scarves of bearded iris.

Thus with this season of partings,
We each go our own way.
In the end we’re just re-starting
A world or so away.