6

The red-eye flight goes softly on
In the dovegrey dawn—
                   Through the portal
A bleary passenger
                   Watches the lion star
Erupt to galvanise
                   The world of form—
Chimera, of which
                   All dark is born.

In an eastern city
                   A boy walks the dusk,
Suburbs rolling away
                   From the same sun.
In every window
                   Lions are being born.