Hazel Hall

To All Quiet Persons

Come out into the sunlight, come,
Waiting your foot the loam
Fluid with brilliance that will splash 
Gilt on your instep, spray your eyes
With jetted light to make them flash
Gladness where they were only wise.

Come now, not soon, into the day
That is a glittering way  
Hung with shapes casting no shade,
So verdant with the sun that space
Is a luscious radiance and made
An unbelievable orchard place.
Go where you will, do what you do,
Light, like branches will cover you,
Like golden fruit hang over you.

You have only to come to be
Of all your wise selves free;
Only to come to rid your ankles
Of that blue cold that ever rankles
Like a purple shadow under flesh;
Only to come to taste the fresh
Fruits of the air and touch the breeze
As you might touch light leaves on trees
And pluck and scatter them as you please.
You have only to come to wear 
Lovely things you have never worn,
Gay and glistening scarfs of air
So fragile they are never torn;
Only to come to feel the sweet
Smells of the earth against your mouth
And to hear drowned out in your own blood’s beat
Wind of the north, breeze from the south.
And yet this much you will have to do;
The sun will not come in for you.
Is it too much to come, to come?
Waiting for you there is breath to sway
In unison with the drunken hum
Of sun-mad bees and the gold of day,
You have only to come.