CANTO 81 The crow and the jay

 

i

The crow and the jay croak

out of sleeplessness.

The breakfast nook surrenders

to the opening and clear wise

subtleties of morning light

shadowing by imperceptible degrees

our shell-game of toast and coffee.

 

ii

Was it in the night the opening came?

Wayfarers gathered there,

walked from light-filled rooms.

Long into the night their voices bloomed.

The nightwatch heard with even pace.

The soft-spoken one declared

this is for all to share:

let there be no desiring in this joy

let there be no toying with this gift.

Then fire curved up from their gathering

and hovered above them.

The waiting fields knew that heat

and sent up plants with feathery blooms.

 

iii

what I want to say

opens out past words

crosses to where the tremolo in the spine

sharpens sense

to an edge of perception so fine

the eyes close, no body sway

or meeting of eyes

can touch it

as when the strains in the last quartet

tense to a filament

drawn so thin molecular beads

shine on a skin of silence