The afternoon sways like an elephant, wears
His smooth grey hide, displays his somnolent grace, weighing
The majesty of his ponderous pace against
The slyness twinkling in an innocent eye.
An infant born to the jungle, this afternoon
Elsewhere reached its mammoth magnificence,
Achieving the delicate play of a palace creature
With which it moves.
Moves, yet those giant limbs, the hours,
Scarcely seem to stir.
Prehensile as leisure, the pleasure triumphing here
In the procession of summer balances
The sun in hiding, the moon, hidden.
Before those grey knees sink
A gaiety like the glint of ivory slides
Lightly along the sky. This elephant afternoon
Winks at the glory of which it is part,
And bears itself with patience. Soon
It will be trumpeting.