Accuracy of observation is the equivalent of accuracy of thinking. - Wallace Stevens

My house has changed a little in the sun. The fragrance of the magnolias come close, False flick, false form, but falseness close to kin.

Slowly the ivy on the stones Becomes the stones. Women become The cities, children become the fields And men in waves become the sea.

Beauty is momentary in the mind — The fitful tracing of a portal; But in the flesh it is immortal. The body dies; the body's beauty lives. So evenings die, in their green going, A wave, interminably flowing. So gardens die, their meek breath scenting The cowl of winter, done repenting. So maidens die, to the auroral Celebration of a maiden's choral.