The Window

She looks out in the blue morning

and sees a whole wonderful world

she looks out in the morning

and sees a whole world

she leans out of the window

and this is what she sees

a wet rose singing to the sun

with a chorus of red bees

she leans out of the window

and laughs for the window is high

she is in it like a bird on a perch

and they scoop the blue sky

she and the window scooping

the morning as if it were air

scooping a green wave of leaves

above a stone stair

and an urn hung with leaden garlands

and girls holding hands in a ring

and raindrops on an iron railing

shining like a harp string

an old man draws with his ferrule

in wet sand a map of Spain

the marble soldier on his pedestal

draws a stiff diagram of pain

but the walls around her tremble

with the speed of the earth the floor

curves to the terrestrial center

and behind her the door

opens darkly down to the beginning

far down to the first simple cry

and the animal waking in water

and the opening of the eye

she looks out in the blue morning

and sees a whole wonderful world

she looks out in the morning

and sees a whole world.