Always it will be late summer in your mind:
Birches give off a full and dark light
 
With a motion you know will abide and return
Every evening. You are changed
 
By small things: an elm seed spins
To earth, and like your talent for the cello
 
The possibilities remain enclosed.
Being ordinary makes you a hero—
 
Sweeping the porch, looking at the sky,
You become more than yourself. The solace for being
 
Dull is being perfectly at ease with the world.
All afternoon
 
The afternoon sails in and out the window
And the first star starts the lake singing.