What lifts the heron leaning on the air I praise without a name. A crouch, a flare, a long stroke through the cumulus of trees, a shaped thought at the sky - then gone. O rare!
Yesterday Mrs. Friar phoned.'Mr. Ciardi, how do you do?' she said. 'I am sorry to say this isn't exactly a social call. The fact is your dog has just deposited-forgive me- a large repulsive object in my petunias.'