In "Interim," the world seems suspended. Lola Ridge opens with the earth motionless in space, then compares it to a great bird pausing between the stars. The wind is given the hour off; it has nestled down in the corn, and the speaker imagines it talking privately with the stalks, the two quietly understanding each other.
The result is a hushed, intimate mood with a slight edge of anticipation. Nothing is lonely about this stillness: earth, wind, and corn feel like companions resting together before something stirs. The speaker feels a reverent attention, as if listening in on a secret between the landscape and the sky. The "whirr of wings" they await could be the returning wind or the next movement of the world, but it keeps the scene alert. For a brief moment, we are allowed to pause inside that attentive, open quiet.