Interstices

As I approached the nest of leaves Under a wide oak along the path I'd taken,

A small leaf wafted up and moved a little further on.

There was a distant warbling in the wind Whose semantics changed as I came nearer.

The marigolds raised faces to receive messages

Of warmth from a pale sun found and lost again among feathery strata. Afternoon shades danced weightlessly Over the swaying reeds of a shallow pond To the metronomous beat of unbearable music.

Too soon, too soon the night flowed over treetops Like a river thick and black with portent,

(The shades warmed venous hands

Against the cold fires of distant stars And pocketed them without solace)

But that night

Was not to be a special night, as I crossed the open field And reached at last the backlit porch.