I meant to get things done–I really did–
But then that thrush would pick today to pour
His water-notes upon the air, and bid.
Me follow him to where the summer’s core
Lay everywhere about. We found nine-bark,
A yellow-breasted chat, and Queen Anne’s Lace;
Bob White, a wildw singing meadow-lark,
A field of wheat with ever-changing face,
Sun through an oak; and, in the roadside dust,
A butterfly I’d never seen before.
Till back at last it ended, as days must,
And, pausing with my hand upon the door,
I add it up. Here is the sum precisely:
I lived today; the work has kept quite nicely.
by Ray Romine Thursday, July 10, 1952
