The summer hums. The afternoon fatigues;

she breathed her crisp white dress distractedly

and put into it that sharply etched etude

her impatience for a reality

that could come: tomorrow, this evening—,

that perhaps was there, was just kept hidden;

and at the window, tall and having everything,

she suddenly could feel the pampered park.

With that she broke off; gazed outside, locked

her hands together; wished for a long book—

and in a burst of anger shoved back

the jasmine scent. She found it sickened her.