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The Winters are so short –
I’m hardly justified
In sending all the Birds away –
And moving into Pod –
Myself — for scarcely settled –
The Phoebes have begun –
And then — it’s time to strike my Tent –
And open House — again –
It’s mostly, interruptions –
My Summer — is despoiled –
Because there was a Winter — once –
And all the Cattle — starved –
And so there was a Deluge –
And swept the World away –
But Ararat’s a Legend — now –
And no one credits Noah –
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The Angle of a Landscape –
That every time I wake –
Between my Curtain and the Wall
Upon an ample Crack –
Like a Venetian — waiting –
Accosts my open eye –
Is just a Bough of Apples –
Held slanting, in the Sky –
The Pattern of a Chimney –
The Forehead of a Hill –
Sometimes — a Vane’s Forefinger –
But that’s — Occasional –
The Seasons — shift — my Picture –
Upon my Emerald Bough,
I wake — to find no — Emeralds –
Then — Diamonds — which the Snow
From Polar Caskets — fetched me –
The Chimney — and the Hill –
And just the Steeple’s finger –
These — never stir at all –
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If I’m lost — now
That I was found –
Shall still my transport be –
That once — on me — those Jasper Gates
Blazed open — suddenly –
That in my awkward — gazing — face –
The Angels — softly peered –
And touched me with their fleeces,
Almost as if they cared –
I’m banished — now — you know it –
How foreign that can be –
You’ll know — Sir — when the Savior’s face
Turns so — away from you –
Tags: angels, away, awkward, banished, blazed, care, face, fleeces, foreign, found, gates, gazing, jasper, lost, open, peered, savior, softly, suddenly, touch, transport
