Depth on fathomless depth of blue, swept clean 
Of all but two, perhaps three, cherubic clouds, 
The sky is big and festive, like poetry. 
Willow, dogwood, oak, elm, tulip tree, 
Blue spruce, black walnut, match and march their greens 
As in a procession stilled, on the still air. 
Hilarity quivers within the grave scene 
Like hidden life beneath water. 
The air has the sweetness of grass, the grass 
Sparkles freshly like air. 
Alien or absent, every evil thing. 
The most serene month in all the twelve 
Summons "the daughter of laughter": a smile, to greet 
The autumn that is coming, that is near.