The elements were rough that day I do
remember, and clouds threw a crude-oil rain
that wetted and continuously withdrew
from lowering banks that paled only in fissures.
A sight it was from my lighted desk to see
great elms bend down their peaceful branches
to the stroke of natural law; lightning, like some
bitten bone, flickering down intense white spines.
But where the window ledge flanked high the storm,
I don't know if peace has its own special roots,
or, architecturally, like a haven,
the window frame struck four angles where colours
may laugh as in perpetual midsummer bliss:
that ledge of flowers was like this.