What was an amorphous clump to others
Was her apparition caressing his pupils from above.
Even the brawny blades of grass
Which withstood shearing winds
Appeared to prostrate in reverence before her.
Even in the presence of the sun,
That often commanded a dark vale over his eyes
Or the shield of his palm
Appeared dusky in her phantom smile.
Even his mind,
Which so frequently bends
under duress of other sky gazers’ negations—
Twisting to accept his lost dog
As a feeble snail crawling through the azure mirror
Rekindling clouds as forbearing conspirators of pelting rain
—Stood stiff, unshakably rooted in conviction.
For surely, this was no obscure clump of white
Or inadvertent effect of light
it was her image in the sky
Glimmering, faintly wafting in his eye.