PROMENADE

Undulant rustlings,

Of oncoming silk,

Rhythmic, incessant,

Like the motion of leaves...

Fragments of color

In glowing surprises...

Pink inuendoes

Hooded in gray

Like buds in a cobweb

Pearled at dawn...

Glimpses of green

And blurs of gold

And delicate mauves

That snatch at youth...

And bodies all rosily

Fleshed for the airing,

In warm velvety surges

Passing imperious, slow...

Women drift into the limousines

That shut like silken caskets

On gems half weary of their glittering...

Lamps open like pale moon flowers...

Arcs are radiant opals

Strewn along the dusk...

No common lights invade.

And spires rise like litanies —

Magnificats of stone

Over the white silence of the arcs,

Burning in perpetual adoration.