Weave, weave the music of the
leaves
So that it moves Our listenings, our loves.
Stir, ever so gently, the rustle of
the breeze
In the old trees.
Beech, maple, ash, elm. oak
Tell over the soft idiom they
spoke
To still, to quiet air.
THESE lines by Rolfe Humphries were written in response to a TIME reader's comment on an earlier Humphries poem. The first work was commissioned by TIME and accompanied our story on the reopening of Belmont Park race track in 1968. Humphries, himself a racing buff, set down his own memories of Belmont's sights, sounds and hues. Reader Robert F. Kelley of Manhattan wrote TIME'S...
