I. Aubade and Nocturne
The world is one word long, one word it tells
Itself with schoolboy pride. Each blushing dawn
Winds whisper to the grass and pass it on
To trees who tell the men to tell the bells.
The sea with jumbled feet is sonnet-deep
And ends not with the line. Birds build haiku
With buzzes loaned by bees who bumble by. Cue
Timbrous tenor valleys, soprano sheep,
Cue seraphim and Satan’s men, cue you;
And fade out all the rest. You stretch and yawn.
So sinks with shy delight our psalm to dew.
Now sleep, my little sun, my lap array
With precious threads and dreams; the night is drawn.
Your light my song, and my songs shall be your day.