Overcast
Are they blue, gray or green? Mysterious
eyes
(as if in fact you were looking
through a mist)
in alternation tender, dreamy,
grim
to match the shiftless pallor of
the sky.
That's what you're like- these warm white afternoons
which make the ravished heart dissolve
in tears,
the nerves, inexplicably overwrought,
outrage the dozen mind.
Not always, though-sometimes
you're like the horizon when the
sun
ignites our cloudy autumn-how you
glow!
A sodden countryside in sudden
rout,
turned incandescent by a changing
wind.
Dangerous woman-demoralizing days!
Will I adore your killing frost
as much,
and in that implacable winter,
when it comes,
discover pleasures sharper than
iron and ice?
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