During this humid month
the hummingbirds hover
like small angels,

and Agnes goes to Rome
in a long, light dress.
What should one think?

It is only now we see
the goldenrod is also blooming.
It will be hot like this

until October when
everything softens to


In the hard hills
of this our lost place
we gather lavender and sage,

then evening opens,
there is that closing
of the fragile sky.

We sit together in
a kind of garden, there
is musical water,

there are shapes
of things without shadow.
It seems impossible.


In my very small
dream, I lift her dress off,
she is like a slight bough,

like a limb that bends
in sunlight.
We pull each other

close. Outside the street
makes its noisy song.
Then we dance,

if one can call it dancing,
our slow gathering
in another deep sweetness.

–The Agnes Poems

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