A Summer Afternoon in Houston
A Summer Afternoon in Houston
(Or, he woke by my side, too late.)
Arrive after five, and it is too late-
The roads to the ends of the earth glisten
As they radiate away- to El Paso and the Bay,
Mystery of moisture rolling from the elm leaves,
Flashing a wink under the slanted naked sun.
And when did it rain?
At four. At four it was begun,
Blinding motorists as it choked the drains,
Tackling dragonflies, ravishing their dames,
A wall of dark on the highway horizon
Seaward moving, all eyes on and following,
Though every afternoon it does the same.
Arrive at five, and the garden has swapped
Tumbling rose neatness for sensuous swamp.
Veils of Spanish moss cloister from shame
Their fresh-bathed oaks, at no loss to maintain
Growing vines in the mind of our humid room-
Every afternoon it is the same.
And when did it rain?
(Or, he woke by my side, too late.)
Arrive after five, and it is too late-
The roads to the ends of the earth glisten
As they radiate away- to El Paso and the Bay,
Mystery of moisture rolling from the elm leaves,
Flashing a wink under the slanted naked sun.
And when did it rain?
At four. At four it was begun,
Blinding motorists as it choked the drains,
Tackling dragonflies, ravishing their dames,
A wall of dark on the highway horizon
Seaward moving, all eyes on and following,
Though every afternoon it does the same.
Arrive at five, and the garden has swapped
Tumbling rose neatness for sensuous swamp.
Veils of Spanish moss cloister from shame
Their fresh-bathed oaks, at no loss to maintain
Growing vines in the mind of our humid room-
Every afternoon it is the same.
And when did it rain?