Nature Poem
This August heat, this momentary breeze,
First filtering through, and then prolonged in it,
Until you feel the two as one, this sound
Of water that is sound of leaves, they all
In stirrings and comminglings so recall
The ways a poem flows, they ask to be
Written into a permanence — not stilled
But given pulse and voice. So many shades,
So many filled recesses, stones unseen
And daylight darknesses beneath the trees,
No single reading renders up complete
Their shifting text — a poem, too, in this,
They bring the mind half way to its defeat,
Eluding and exceeding the place it guesses,
Among these overlappings, half-lights, depths,
The currents of this air, these hiddennesses.
Page(s) 37
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