26
He woke in the dawn and saw in front of the house the
        treetops and pale sky beyond,
the darkness between the trees fading, and then the trees clear
        in the fresh blue day.

The dew lay in large drops over the grass beside the walk.
Birds were hopping about, robins large among the sparrows,
and from the bay gulls swung silently overhead.

The smell of coffee filled the screened porch. Her glance bid him welcome.
The sunlight edged its way along, and when she walked through it,
her yellow hair and the white flesh of her hands shone.


27
On the counter were red slabs and rolls of beef. Bolognas hung
        along the walls and from the ceiling.
He carried his sliced bologna and two cents worth of bread to a table.
She came in and flung her muff on the table, almost upon his bread.
Waiting to be served, she stood in front of the mirror,
smoothing her dress over her hips, curving her arms to her hair, stretching herself.
She sat down facing him, smiled, and soon they were talking.
When she had gobbled her food, he gave her some of his.
He was through and still he sat there, warming himself at her quick beauty.
He had but to ask and he knew that she would come along.
He arose and went out. He walked down the street slowly, 
        asking himself if he wasn’t a fool.