(from a Notebook, May 4-23, 1971, Keele Village)

The days have become so warm, so light &
so airy suddenly that I cannot think
of any states but these & winter,
except perhaps for a few evenings
the sun descended red through an empty
grey, but that's gone, & just
odd remembered colours if we look out at
all this playful green that now seems set with
its lovely bird-song, sky, & all other accoutrements
of a mode of casual air. This mode
breaks, is diffused amongst the white vapours whose
gentleness occludes the obvious sun.
We are forced to turn to eachother
& say that this time is good & the
fields so recently ploughed & harrowed
will soon shine brightly to themselves with a
perfect & tender sufficiency. Our
amazement continues, but changes, the
light moving to clumps of dark grasses in a meadow
as th sun again descends, thrown out
so into a perfect possession of
each blade & its shadow falling.
Though the warm may change to cool, its light fade
the sensation of the crystalline airs pre
serving each object can continue & grow
as the falling of the sun must bring in the rise of Venus
the first of the stars, each a separate light
sufficient to shine in the clear heaven itself.