Green all winter. The purest of pleasures.
Sap, ink, ice. The bus shelter blaze at noon.
Let us hold together a short silence.
What constitutes a good life? Zinc, stone, glass.
We don’t worship silence – order, perfume;
warble, rill – we worship in silence.
Civility, pleasure. The underground
breeze of the north-bound arrival. Orange
trees and lemon, myrtle, sweet marjoram.
The best perfume in the air. Sit and look
at a field. Drooping palm fronds in the mall
restroom, the crash of pinks of all sorts.
An office desk in sun-burnt light. Sweetened
under air. Roses cut to come late.
For those who have known a reversal – figs
in fruit, filberts. Vine leaves. Water, arch, wind.
Dahlias. A learnéd leisure, bedded
in a noble state. A knoll, sculpted green.