Stiff mask of gold, the firelight pressed
like fever on my face: I lay
watching the weather be undressed,
the stormy bridal of the day.
But clouds that streamed with riches were
rocked in the wind's enormous wash:
their only touch was troubled air
- a distant voice, a lightning flash.
The river and the restless tree
lay in each other's eyes, and shone:
the diving bough untakeably
the wave too far to lean upon.
Passionate on bloodless glass
image and view came fingering
the mirror neither side could pass.
But in the weather's writhe and sting,
bare as the glitter of the pane,
a world of dubious light looked through
the pale surrender of the rain
and the embrace of striding blue.
I wore the heat like armour; she
like the wind's enfolding weight
and let a stream of hair fall free
towards the whispering of its light.