A Mood of Quiet Beauty

        The evening light was like honey in the trees
	When you left me and walked to the end of the street
	Where the sunset abruptly ended.
	The wedding-cake drawbridge lowered itself
	To the fragile forget-me-not flower.
	You climbed aboard.
        Burnt horizons suddenly paved with golden stones,
	Dreams I had, including suicide,
	Puff out the hot-air balloon now.
	It is bursting, it is about to burst
	With something invisible
	Just during the days.
	We hear, and sometimes learn,
	Pressing so close
        And fetch the blood down, and things like that.
	Museums then became generous, they live in our breath.