The muse of Kilally Meadows(1)

A shiny leaf-haunted chestnut squats in dirt And the squirrel tail robust enough to sweep down hard on it, after a rain, is gentle also

A blue sky between the clouds moves like mayfly more than the deviant bee, or ant on whom a matchstick's a Cosmos carried back to his home

Wasps bear the husks of their dead Clouds that drop a forepaw close to lake waters will billow like thick curling thoughts, powdery in a way

squirrel tails can never be A red-bulbed sun looks down frostily on us all, with a glazed, a restless countenance Chokeberries swell