A steeple when it is imperceptible for days
carries through the air a streak of blue
on the collar, and a sound other than singing,
a long answer like shadows that hush
in water.
She lay clothed, indefinite as the room,
or the green stair carpet woven
with yellow globes of the world;
and by the guidance of sunlight,
some blur in the misleading chandelier,
they conversed directly in bright daylight,
her hand overlapping his draped elbow,
as though a garden flowered foolishly
above the town houses, and the future
who left them in our keeping.
