Elizabeth Bishop
POEMS
RAIN TOWARDS MORNING
The great light cage has broken up in the air,
freeing, I think, about a million birds
whose wild ascending shadows
will
not be back,
and all the wires come falling down.
No cage, no frightening birds, the rain
is
brightening now. The face
is
pale
that tried the puzzle of their prison,
that changed it with an unexpected kiss,
whose freckled unsuspected hands alit.
II
The tumult in the heart
keeps asking questions.
And then it stops and undertakes to answer
in the same' tone of voice.
No one could tell the difference.
Uninnocent, these conversations start,
and then engage the senses,
only half meaning to.
And then there is no choice,
and then there
is
no sense;
until a name
and all its connotation are the same.
III
Wasted, wasted, minutes that couldn't be worse,
minutes of a barbaric condescension.
-Stare out the bathroom window at the fir-trees,
at their dark needles, accretions to no purpose
