NOW
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47 NOW Awake for the moonset eroding Into rain I smelled coming, The weak Orionids fading back To galaxy, their orbit. I cannot pretend that every miracle Is holy as I watch on This increasing endorsement of dawn— Ornamental trees dropping a few leaves In their swaying, as quail covey and run The dampening understory, as tufts Of smoke wimple now, now furl, now scatter From the dim smudge of the far farm Coming into view, and now bleary forms— Horses I remember there, flat hills beyond, Their patient corrosion in this lean rain, Negligible rain so far from a river In the heart of where we are Where every moment is a landscape We enter, depart, at the same time. ...
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