Now when the whippoorwills come out and sing at dusky dark, she rises from her evening
prayer and walks along the riverbank, thinking of him, the one her heart loves.
Goat's hair clouds. A raincrow's song in the early dusk. The light in the west is dahlia
purple.
*
Vines spangled with summer gold. Meringue. Shingle. Gumdrop. A rainbow.
A goldspink singing in the spoon tree. Cicadas hissing in the evening light. Gorse,
goldenrod, ailanthus, plum.
The wind chimes glimmer with sound.
*
When the October moon rises, a full moon, cadmium orange, she leaves by the west door
and walks under the red leaves, going to find him whom her heart loves. O marigold moon, O
dark traceries of trees against the sky.
Flame-drip of autumn candles. A scarlet as of Brazil, a gilt that devours her young. As if
glass ringing with praise. Runcible spoons with their slippery cargo. Snarled silk (a
scarlet as of Brazil), dried lily, tintinnabulation.
*
The jaded fields of early winter. Blue root and chime of bottles.
The world is disordered and catatonic.
Dusk is the shadow of dahlia purple, hyacinth violet.
*
Spring. Comets among the wheeling constellations. Jackdaws calling from tower to tower,
the blue scent of apple flowers.
The sound of the word yellow is the purl of water over stones.
*
High summer: a crimson as of Brazil. Gorse, goldweed, and candent sun. The rayed
flower-heads of dahlias. Only the cowbird's mating song comes back from childhood.
Evenings by the river, the light shriven of blame and loneliness.