Here is not the elegant
   Sway of a swan's neck
      But ****** haunch-
         Industrial flesh

The whip-tail
   Lively-an agitation
      Of shorn wheat in wind
         But not
            The playful passion of feathers
               True of a peacock crown

Yet here eyes,
   Live, luminous pearls
      In murky shell
         Tremble-like only
           Still and secretive water can

And in a reflection-
   Not grazing
      The marbled rice field
         Of the beast's eye,
            My singular awe-
               No more noticed
                   Than a stone
                      Against the verse
                         Of the beast's gait
  
                             As it peals across
                                The marbled rice field
                                                           ­        Of my eye