The intense heat, the real noise.
The shape of a rainbow.
Backwoods and dark ordinaries.
I know his music too well, I think.
Stumbling and lurching in this garden,
All magnolia and coral bells,
I hear, not him, but this.
Starling pulling worm.
Staccato cricket.
I see, not him, but this.
Creature drama.
Dappled path, quick shadow.
No respecter of me.