As though to a bride-show,
hastening uncombed and
unprepared, and set lisping
of this or that quality,
meanwhile the bright bull,
red-circled, cloppers away
and exits, bellowing.
That one is neither alone
nor many, but caught,
bug-quick and frantic,
then made still, mimics
eclipse and mirrors demise.
All this, and maybe more.
Rest awhile, parabolic mistress.
Put far from your mind
such thoughts. Be outside,
looking in.