Muses, hear that? Ant sacrifice.
But if there were such passageways...
You could take them
Here to the boathouse, and to the glassy lake--
its quiet necklace of twilight
Your ear to the vibrating catbird throat
robed in song and changing
There are. There are. This is heaven on earth and
you are your own lonely animal, soft and failing,
locked in the magnificent twinkling cuffs
of your passing sparkle.