The salmon west leapt soft, spawned wild to sunset,
and the poaching lovers stood heron-still in the foam
of the orchard, baited to catch some sound of home,
while no dog barked and no door slammed and no child shouted.
But poplar leaves clashed like cymbals in the thin wind that blew
and at last the moon boomed out of the apple-tree and the two
lovers drove into the amorous dusk
and swam like swans through the clamorous air.
Copyright © BOA Editions, Ltd 2011
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc.
on behalf of BOA Editions LTD.