There are clouds behind the stars,
racing over college spires,
ragged over Oxfordshire;
moonless.
Sunrise was too sudden,
was too bright too soon;
perhaps I should have turned away,
have taken time. But now,
eclipsed and sightless,
scattered dawns dance shattered
in my deliquescent eyes.
I wait
for sight, and dry the stars away,
and somewhere on the breeze that
herds the clouds I sense
the dimming of the day.