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A Sudden Rain in the Green Mountains

 

for Jessica Bennett

Plush hills, the raw materials, fall away.

The soaking clay

In which the serried oaks, the picturesque

And swaybacked pines, elected to evolve,

The famous marble in its bare reserve,


Vanish like guesses in these verticals

Whose heft at dusk

Blurs rooks to ridges, veils the bicycles

And splashes where they lean hard into curves.

Looming like crowds, such weather makes its world;


Its crash and draft and spate and uniform

Consonant force confirm

Or mean-not that without you there are no

Attainments I can care for or call good-

But that among them, missing you, I know

How much delight, green need


And weird vivacious luck drew me to you:

Luck lasts with us. Out here I can believe

That all companionships only rehearse

Or faintly copy ours, and make it plain-

As over the plain inn, the plain roof clears-

That granite, marble, nascent evening stars

And that impressive dinner bell, the moon,


Still seem-may seem, to me, forever-yours,

A portraitist's surround to set you off

For admiration and comparison.

In light you spare, unevenly, they shine

To give such thought, your thought, occasion,

Triangulate, and show me where you are.

I'm not with you. I will be with you soon.

---Stephen Burt

 



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