I have a night habit, darkly moving in air,Not mattering—a veil of incident light.Mother-of-pearl field luster, I park insideA streak of hill cane, where an opening foldsMe in by the perennial stream. I have my nighthabit, see, I am moving in the dark air, noMatter, no light to veil. I am incident in theField, a perennial opening folds me in. NightPark, lust for pearl. In the front pasture daisiesDiffuse, strands of lucent vapor. I walk overThe hill, a streak of dark. In the field, perennialMother in the hollow, I come for my habit—Air veil, enfold me where I matter, the openingDark, the want in me lustering. Over daisies I pearlA stream of incidents, me stranded with night,Made hollow by opening, field matter, stranger.