Morley David - Swimming Chenango Lake: selected poems

The hooves describe an arabesque on space, A dotted line in sound that falls and rises As the cart goes by, recedes, turns to retrace Its way back through the unawakened village. And space vibrates, enlarges with the sound; Though space is soundless, yet creates From very soundlessness a ground To counterstress the lilting hoof fall as it breaks.

Light struggles with colour: A quincunx Of five stones, a white Opal threatened by emeralds. The sea is uneasy marble. The sea is green silk. The sea is blue mud, churned By the insistence of wind. Beneath dawn a sardonyx may be cut from it In white layers laced with a carnelian orange, A leek- or apple-green chalcedony Hewn in the cold light.

The light makes white holes through the black foliage Or mist hides everything that is not itself. But how shall one say so? The fact being, that when the truth is not good enough We exaggerate. Proportions Matter. It is difficult to get them right. There must be nothing Superfluous, nothing which is not elegant And nothing which is if it is merely that. This green twilight has violet borders.

Yellow butterflies Nervously transferring themselves From scarlet to bronze flowers Disappear as the evening appears.

Thickening, these Hang down over the pink walls In green bars, and, flickering between them, A moving fan of two colours, The sea unrolls and rolls itself into the low room.