Peripheries

This circle holding the afternoon sky is a lake For summer business measured in stacked pairs Of peeling oars whose dinghies all ship water. Beside it on the trampled grass a carrousel shakes And turns on an Old World instrument The plink and plank and tinkle of a tune Of plunging horses in fresh habiliment. We catch the reins of enamel Pegasus And lift the child until she is astride A purple beast, where, wrapping infant arms About his neck of wood, she whirls in space And gallops off upon the turning wheel. The horse climbs steadily the silver pole Where cherubs hang, then slides toward spinning earth; She sees the moving heaven of winged babes; Rising to meet them, rising, she returns To where our faces, staring in at hers, Fixed, while her orbit whirls and sunlight burns, Recede to artifact as her vision blurs.