July 18, 2015
Sitting on a hay wagon in the flats after the fair, tired.
An hour ago
High summer mustered all
And rode out of the boiling west
Countless horses before and behind
One great deluge over the whole wide earth
Riding on, riding on
No sooner come
As if a slow fire flamed in the hills
Languid clouds like smoke
The steep green slopes
Breaking here and there
As the elusive vision of God
And everywhere summer
She walks on
All is calm.
Amid this majesty
Of cloud and light
The diminutive but dancing body of a swallow
With an exuberance too big for its tiny frame
Across the open sky.
Isn’t it a wonder
That amidst power and space such as
This one small life is sustained?