A rakish falcon sickles through a cloud
of swallows in the poplars. Sun will bless
its meal. This climate calls for nests and bread.
The neighbors grow daisies. Elizabeth,
the sulking daughter, wears a hat and veil.
She lashes apples, plums, and apricots
in a butter churn. She knows she will assail
a tower on the Yangtze, free gazelles, eat
icicles. She will sleep on her back, floating
in water angels spout. The fountain's horse
will nuzzle her ribs, its marble muscles hot
and twitching when it bears her, queenlike, forth.
Here, fat robins land to glean a column
of beetles. A plum drops to the soft lawn.