My shoes as I lean unlacing them stand out upon flat worsted flowers under my feet.

If you had come away with me into another state we had been quiet together. But there the sun coming up out of the nothing beyond the lake…

Disciplined by the artist to go round and round in holiday gear a riotously gay rabble of

School is over. It is too hot to walk at ease. At ease in light frocks they walk the stre… to while the time away. They have grown tall. They hold

In the flashes and black shadows of July the days, locked in each other’s a… seem still so that squirrels and colored bird…

The May sun—whom all things imitate— that glues small leaves to the wooden trees shone from the sky

I stopped the car to let the children down where the streets end in the sun at the marsh edge

A three-day-long rain from the eas… an terminable talking, talking of no consequence—patter, patter,… Hand in hand little winds blow the thin streams aslant.

There were some dirty plates and a glass of milk beside her on a small table near the rank, disheveled bed— Wrinkled and nearly blind

I bought a dish mop— having no daughter— for they had twisted fine ribbons of shining copper about white twine

THERE is a bird in the poplars— It is the sun! The leaves are little yellow fish Swimming in the river; The bird skims above them—

Let the snake wait under his weed and the writing be of words, slow and quick, sharp to strike, quiet to wait,