Dog-Days

A LADDER sticking up at the open window, The top of an old ladder ; And all of Summer is there. Great waves and tufts of wistaria surge across the window, And a thin, belated blossom Jerks up and down in the sunlight ; Purple translucence against the blue sky. "Tie back this branch," I say, But my hands are sticky with leaves. And my nostrils widen to the smell of crushed green. The ladder moves uneasily at the open window. And I call to the man beneath, "Tie back that branch." There is a ladder leaning against the window-sill. And a mutter of thunder in the air.