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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