Sunday Evening
The sparrow whets
His stub weapon
And swites at a whistle —
Determined.
His stub weapon
And swites at a whistle —
Determined.
Everything prepares. The poplars, their leaves, their
Limp-necked spade-hands, feeling all round inside the air for
The comings and goings of apprehension.
Tree by tree they menace each other with the rumor—
Then stand trembling.
Limp-necked spade-hands, feeling all round inside the air for
The comings and goings of apprehension.
Tree by tree they menace each other with the rumor—
Then stand trembling.
Nothing is ready, the sparrow curses, flings down
Things from the gutter.
Things from the gutter.
While the svcamores are venturing to grow, to spread their
Nurseries of scissorwork, their huge webbed hands, and breathing deeply, piepating,
Nurseries of scissorwork, their huge webbed hands, and breathing deeply, piepating,
Their lizards spread enormous ruffs —
How much longer?
I have only to turn my head and the leaves crash, whole trees Recoiling
On lolling springs — but at once, streaming they powerfully
Recover and are stilled
Like a football crowd at a near goal.
Then they lean their torn vast airless masks toward me —
On lolling springs — but at once, streaming they powerfully
Recover and are stilled
Like a football crowd at a near goal.
Then they lean their torn vast airless masks toward me —
Where?
The sparrow snaps all
His affairs shut in a
Tight case and goes off,
Furious.
His affairs shut in a
Tight case and goes off,
Furious.
I stand among puddles
Beneath these trees filling and brimming the air,
These staggering bouquets nobody knows how to accept.
Beneath these trees filling and brimming the air,
These staggering bouquets nobody knows how to accept.