For I have seen him lying beneath the sun
Reading Donne perhaps,
Eyes upon the world,
Laughing in a moment of a too long too narrow view;
Speaking of a shelter in the coolness of your voice.
Here, away from instinctive days of waging the
“Civil War in the Cave”
He came upon a tender mildness.
Blind to Azrael who rubs hands patiently,
He arose and walked with Summer at his back;
Aware of the irremissive goal of possessing,
The unspeakable security lacking,
Yet aware of only your eyes
And what they say to him.