Lover, the Sun has roused itself to give

Lover, the Sun has roused itself to give
the world its light. The rattling of the snake
and whispering of the cricket, the soft quake
of a calf sleeping. The clouds seem alive

above the pasture, the clouds that deceive
my eyes with changing forms. The shadows take
the surface of the bayou, the leaves shake
in the maple and the oak. The wooden archive

renders a fantastic history: power, glory,
virtue in this forever-manipulated game.
Lover, the heavens present an illusory

image, a representation, we have become
a myth beyond knowledge. The brilliant memory
of love's disastrous trials before fame.