Stillness

Blue bearded iris so tall it bloomed
in the lower apple branches. Ice
tinkling in tea was like the sound
of ankles’ muted clicking when
she took her waking exercise
on the bed. Later by the lake
where ordinary people not in love
walked up and down, he heard the ice

crackling in a glass of white. That creak
was like the snap her bra straps made
on shoulders when she slipped them on.
The Chablis waited while she gave
the boy his lesson in the leafy shade,
pergola where honeysuckle trailed.