A washing line sways in the breeze,
Throwing about its worn tassels.
The leafless branches of trees sway
In sympathetic motion, without
Force, motion with no object, no
Design : searching as for nothing.
The light of clouds and the light of
The sun are blent in the ragged
Grass, part held and part refracted
In windshield and skylight.
The deathliest of noons. Accident
Does not visit its occasion.
It conceived of no more elaborate
End than that the cardinals give
Their briefest music from the dark
Of flowering rhodedendrons.
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