Girl in an Orchard

I WANT to show you a young girl in an orchard,
Face down to a book, hair fallen forward,
The May apples’ shift of white and green
Lifted around her, sun let out and in;
Such day as you may remember for unnamable
Fragrance and the long, slow sound of it all,
As though it were the unopened heart of summer
Somehow known. The girl is at its center.
She is out of herself into the book,
And she and the book and the day together make
A page that holds the sun, and may he so
Forever — but that, of course, I cannot show you
Or know myself. But I can look as long
As I grow older, and none of this will move or change.