2475

2474

2473

2472

2471

2470

2469

2468

2467

2467
The towers baffle the air
In their standing
Til it sounds both before
And behind, the jet,
Like a capable stone
That echoes and skips,
That yields and stays.

2466

2465

2464

2463

2462

2461

2460

2459

2459
Light wants darkness to have its breath,
Else it is too fine too draw.
It's organic:
Not of shadows being,
But by them defined,
As a thought's eclipse by circumstance.

2458

2457

2456

2455

2454

2453

2452

2451

2450

2449

2448

2447

2446

2445

2444

2443

2442

2441

2441
Death's counterpart is time
That measures without a movement,
Organic as breath.
My window on the world
Is a close prison,
A brief hour's view of what is.

2440

2439

2438

2437

2436

2435

2434

2434
A gust of my affection
Set a truer course in this sea
Swept by the same wind that sweeps me.
What paths lie in this fine-grained field
That from expectation alter?
The true's within this larger sphere
Whose father's my affection.

2433

2432

2431

2430

2429

2428

2427

2426

2425