Classic Poem

A trickle of dawn insinuated itself
Through the crevices of black satiation.
The elderly trees coughed lightly, hurriedly,
In remonstrance against the invasion:
Lean with a virginal poison,
The grass-blades shook, immune to light and time.
A bird lost in a tree
Shrilly flirted with its energy . . . .
One fool, in the garden, spoke to another.