february morning

	LARRY, A SONG SPARROW WARBLES BRIGHTLY
		 in the silver morning after the storm.
			 We enjoy the form,
		 the shape, the doorways, of the consciousness
		 	that you explored as an astronaut.
			    I sit on your porches,
			and hear your birds, and smell
			    your rain.  You have opened
			    A SENSORY BRIGHTNESS
				that was not closed
			    but glowed and enlarged
				  with pleasure.
				      You have set
				  what I feel and touch
				       to a fresh strain.

				   You "unmeasure"
				       music and sense
					  to be an
				      OPENING ROSE,

					 OPENING
					    ROSE

				   -- a rose untouched
					    before


				
					        Michael McClure