The poet becoming the poem
Between the cloud claps wings the halcyon, Between the shadows flies her light to me; And I am hushed to hear her sound in man, And I am song to let her beauty be . . . Along your metaphor I'm shaped again, Along your height I breathe the gospel air; And living, voice the idiom I'm in, And loving, learn my lyric likeness there. Under this month irradiates the poem, Under this sound your meanings seek to bless; Your hush of words -- the harmony I am: Yo ur wing's bright rush now fills my wilderness.