TO THE OTHERS

I see you, refulgent ones, Burning so steadily Like big white arc lights... There are so many of you.

I like to watch you weaving — Altogether and with precision Each his ray — Your tracery of light,

Making a shining way about America. I note your infinite reactions — In glassware And sequin

And puddles And bits of jet — And here and there a diamond... But you do not yet see me,

Who am a torch blown along the wind, Flickering to a spark But never out.