After “Perle”

Polished cloud, cherished

Gold, lost in the green folds

Of the Earth. I saw you once

When I was rich in time and

Pulled the weight of the

Pavement along with my feet.

The days in August, Holy

And few are ours. They shout

With the treble of a tenor and

Allow their own memory to

Warble. I still remember

The tune and sing its slightness,

Its echoes mirror like the

World from your lustre.

Pearl, precious and without

Mark I retread the ground

On which you last let me

See the Earth — softened

To a haze of gauze,

My will too strong to

Allow myself another

View. If I grasp back into

The mist of your gloss I

Will find its seam. Now

I peer, contentions losing

Ground to solaces sought.