Earth, earth!
day, this bright day
again-once more
showers of dry spruce gold,
the poppy flopped broad open and delicate
from its pod-once more,
all this again: I’ve had many
days here with these stones and leaves:
like the sky, I’ve taken on a color
and am still:
the grief of leaves,
summer worms, huge blackant
queens bulging
from weatherboarding, all that
will pass
away from me that I will pass into,
none of the grief
cuts less now than ever-only I
have learned the
sky, the day sky, the blue
obliteration of radiance:
the night sky,
pregnant, lively,
tumultuous, vast—the griet
again in a higher scale
of leaves and poppies:
space, spac
eand a grief of things:
motion: standing still.
This Bright Day
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