Andrew Motion
In the purple shade my ripening mulberrry made
I stretched myself out to watch the sky go run-about -
endless impeccable blue comprising the whole view,
and then one single cloud in the shape of a coffin-shroud.
No, not that. More like a pulled-down anarchist's hat,
then a cliff, a bear, the hind legs of a vanishing hare,
anything in fact, anything, and always perfect,
so long as I saw it different from the thing before.
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