Doesn’t the pregnant nest swarm in tiny pixels,
While ripened pear swells,
As water gathers to beaded slip,
The long cascade from cedar, to exhale of soil, finale?
Or do salty eastern winds hesitate to whip
Around ankles burrowed warmly in seashell mosaic-
Will a leaf suspend itself, float upwards,
Spiral away from men learned in the properties of the planets
And their galactic wanderings?

So I ask why the halting of this earthly intelligence.
Why do eyes blindly seek impossible hues with which to color
The curving of this grotesque landscape-
And why did the approaching cumulus sweep itself up,
Unsatisfying knowledge, to taunt distances within inches?
I ask not to calculate in certain measures matter, or atom,
Nor fact hidden in lofty hemispheres, but to spill forth,
In words that flow, the musical measure of her illuminated neck,
Against which earrings would chime soft melodies,
And would be the envy of certain lilies,
Bending their backs to the heavy sun,
Which was their only syllable.