Nights like this: on the cold apple-bough Amends by Adrienne Rich
a white star, then another exploding out of the bark: Nights like this: on the cold apple-bough on the ground, moonlight picking at small stones a white star, then another exploding out of the bark: as it picks at greater stones as it rises with the surf on the ground, moonlight picking at small stones laying its cheek for moments on the sand as it licks the broken ledge, as it flows up the cliffs, as it picks at greater stones as it rises with the surf as it flicks across the tracks laying its cheek for moments on the sand as it licks the broken ledge, as it flows up the cliffs, as it unavailing pours into gash as it flicks across the tracks of the sand-and-gravel quarry as it leans across the hangared fuselage as it unavailing pours into gash of the crop dusting plane of the sand-and-gravel quarry as it leans across the hangared fuselage as it soaks through cracks into trailers of the crop dusting plane tremulous with sleep as it dwells upon the eyelids of sleepers as it soaks through cracks into trailers as if to make amends tremulous with sleep as it dwells upon the eyelids of sleepers as if to make amends
A Year at the Shore: "If any choose to maintain, as many do, that species were gradually brought to their maturity from humbler forms ... he is welcome to his hypothesis, but I have nothing to do with it."