One hardly knew what to think. The grass
Had fooled them with a breath of night air.
When the zephyr arrived, it found certain
Messages that not even a good god
Could contradict. It was fateful, unfair,
And convincing. It was an eve that
No Adam could hope to increase or cease to love.
Poetry depends on what all poets warn of,
And all wanted to be: Beautiful Indigoes—
So ‘beautiful’ the sky looked like
it dripped molasses, and so ‘indigo ’
That the wind could make a mountain
Dance on the face of the earth—
A final passage in the indigo glow.