Cicadas blur the ear as the blue heat haze blurs the eye Fulfillment is a word known to be lucky and hence not nice or perhaps a shade absurd Wise folk avoid it though they may speak of days of changing tension Softly the hayfields rise in the seedtime's changing browns and rusts to the green mountain where the farthest crests blur in purple boundaries like the child's outreaching perceptions and fall back in media gloria like the folds of the woman's experience The redwings the meadowlarks the treeswallows zoom in the warmth small and sudden pleasant interconnections uniting all this knowledge with the earth. Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON LORD HOLLAND'S SEAT NEAR MARGATE, KENT by THOMAS GRAY THOUGHTS OF PHENA AT NEWS OF HER DEATH by THOMAS HARDY FOR LOVE'S SAKE, KISS ME ONCE AGAIN! by BEN JONSON SONG OF A SECOND APRIL by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 34. THE DARK GLASS by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI |