To _____
Because your day was like that---
Either one we remembered,
Far away and hardly seen in a museum,
Or, beginning always for us
Even if we missed the brightness announcing you
Surrounding every window in the house.
I can always stop for those far clouds that stop,
Which you enjoy, because you are those motions, shadowy underneath,
Moving as slow presences during the day,
The day everyone is caught in.
I do miss a lot because I was sleeping
Or busy (the curse of those indoor offices)
Or once, you were cold in the wandering wind that fell,
Making fresh snow about my door.
I could have resented you but that never happened,
The sight of these splashed layers of lacquered transparency,
White washed white, or stormy grays
Sweeping through the distance,
Which hinted at the love we might have,
Or even more glorious days.