Woodsmoke and a distant loudspeaker
Filter into this clear
Air, and blur.
The red tomato's in, the green bean;
The cook lugs a pumpkin
From the vine
For pies. The fir tree's thick with grackles.
Gold carp loom in the pools.
A wasp crawls
Over windfalls to sip cider-juice.
Guests in the studios
Indoors, Tiffany's phoenix rises
Above the fireplace;
Two carved sleighs
Rest on orange plush near the newel post.
Wood stoves burn warm as toast.
The late guest
Wakens, mornings, to a cobalt sky,
A diamond-paned window,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem