When the dark dawn humped off to die
The air sang, clearly the county bells
Rang in the light from trees to wells
And silkened every catbird cry.
Webbed in a gown of yellow white,
Gauzed as a robin where the tree
Blows down over the eyelids, she
Limped on beyond me in the light.
One bell before I woke, the stones
Under the balls of her soft feet
Cried out to her, the leaves in the wet
All tumbled toward her name at once.
And while my waking hung in poise
Between the air and the damp earth,
I saw her startle to the breath
Of birds beginning in her voice.
Be careful of holes, the catbird said,
His nest hanging below her hair,
Nudging the robins windward there,
Whorling the air of glint and shade.
Fall in the hole, the pigeon swore,
His feathers beckoning her to ground,
Burling the sparrows out of sound,
Whorling the glints of shade and air.
Cling to the edge, cling to the edge,
Here, step lightly, touch my beak.
She listened, but she would not speak,
Following the white swan through the hedge.
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