New SpaceI lived where the day's light was
a clean and open transparency
so clear I should see into level distances
and, from hilltops,
know every fluttering wing,
every leaf down to the sprawling sea.
I should know every sky glow
and be dreaming in
the white sheeting of moonlight -
moonlight's wide sheeting.
I should be well washed
by clean green spaces and the gargle
of clear and stony streams, invisible
on sheer bird-throated land.
I should sway and echo with
the ancient sea's voice
and its depths, pregnant with life
more varied than the air holds -
longing to stand on the feet of a passing day
and be carried
where all new time is stored.