Stargazing The binoculars, as if I had Parkinson’s, refuse to steady. So the stars zigzag about like crazy, brilliant midges. Pink Tones To the sporadic pull of the air’s clear rope the hibiscus blossom sways and swings but its pistil tongue still cannot strike the wall of the bell, which peals out not sound but colour. Seize the Day It’s all right for them, the waking birds who in grace chirp, Carpe diem! They’ve no reckoning to face here or any other place.