Eric Beeny: "Sometimes the Noisy, The Vast Clock"

Sometimes the noisy, the vast clock, a sudden

gasp, or gap,

such awful

beautiful trees,

and there are

others, our lips into them

violently astonished.

If we had not been noticed,

privately pleasant,

surging with questions,

we transparent shades

shrinking in shock

with heart-shaped fists,

sensation minus wind,

spoken of, heard of,

afraid.

Of, patience indeed

weeping,

you couldn’t prove the most distant

limbs or leaves,

or do anything taller,

immediately

hesitant.