An Early Apocalypse

I see the skeleton of the year

poised in the cool moonspray,

trying to catch at the blemished

calendar of the next.

Embraced most of the day

by the low and slender rainbow,

the world-jewel sweeps on

with its morning, noon and night.

The nowhereness of the fifth-month grass

stayed for a moment only,

before the earthless mountain light

anointed without mountains.