TO THE OTHERS

I see you, refulgent ones,

Burning so steadily

Like big white arc lights...

There are so many of you.

I like to watch you weaving —

Altogether and with precision

Each his ray —

Your tracery of light,

Making a shining way about America.

I note your infinite reactions —

In glassware

And sequin

And puddles

And bits of jet —

And here and there a diamond...

But you do not yet see me,

Who am a torch blown along the wind,

Flickering to a spark

But never out.