I
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| "Blue Heron," by Mary Bast |
tea and honey in rainless dawn,
and blue reserve of heron
on canvas burn through
pure indifference of sacrifice--
I dream lavishly against the bleak
invasion of insistent contretemps.
As sedation hushes pain,
sweet honey and blue-gray wings
quiet the winding toward Dresden,
stilled for my awakened arms
to hold dominion of the day.
II
Why give my bounty to the dying?
What is grace that floats only
in bleak predicaments and dreams?
I will find in morning's clear light,
in Darjeeling leaves and feathered flight,
in all of Earth's alluring treasures
cherished intimations of eternity,
my animate divine now bringing
rhapsody to rain, intensity to hue,
lament to melancholy, unrestrained
acquaintance with both joy and pain,
dimensions of my soul's design.
Mary Bast, Unmuzzled, Unfettered.
(Mirror poem of Parts I and II, Wallace Stevens, "Sunday Morning."
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