At these alight latitudes All afternoon wind ferries letters – Maple-five-fingered, beech-arrow-headed, ginko-fanned From the heights (So blue, so blue if you can bear to look)

To the crosshatched earth, On which you walk, Suddenly alert and alive As if your heart stuck in its bell jar Just received its southern migratory telegram,

Your arms spread at your sides (How surprisingly warm are the wine dark nebulae of mums!) feeling for long moments more like a biplane than a biped.