And to think there must be a source
left unaware and responsible
besides, who else, with the string of clouds
moves towards intermission.
It is time for us to be together
to go to the screen.
To get caught up
in the fullness of the day.
No more to reckon
in the empty house of Romantics.
One surveys the land and finds the grass
is much taller over there.
That this very afternoon is hot enough
to muffle the exchanges
between the wildflowers.,
One stands for something,
each other,
at least something living.
To wait for the light
to pass on into berries.
Or each time a hard aim
to open the book
to the same page
the same passage and to send
only its strange encouragements.
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