Always a pail of water stood
On a stool beside the window, where
It caught and cast on wall or ceiling
The sunlight of the summer air.
Brightness-darkness, inside-gloom
Of green from outside greener green,
Brooded in the grateful room,
Bird-song and woman-song between
Tip-toe barefoot watching child,
Feeling June heat, feeling coolness
Stirring the hair, watched the mild
Intent face haloed by the pool
Of sunlight on the ceiling, saw
The deft slim hands, the band of gold,
The peas spill from the pod flawed,
And heard them chatter in the bowl.
Across mint-scented, a rooster crowed;
The mother hummed and old air;
The meadow-smells of midday, flowing
Through the window, brushed a chair.
June and summer, apple leaves,
Mint-scent and bird-song long since lost
Down shabby years: your halting weave
Is dimly mended – but at what cost