A sun in zeal
I'm lying on a dustbed
Unaware of the flowers just behind what's sad.
It is a day
When ties would never stop to
Contemplate the sudden impenetrability of May.
A night it is
For birds to settle back in nests of fragile straw,
The nests I wonder being missed.
The moon is here
Yet lights have not gone out,
To light my way to dustbed and the rest.