Fifty wizards working in the wind
And one tall wizard standing in the rear
Made a quick sheen to lacquer all Vermont.
Up leapt the sun. The air was far and near.
The weeds, the grass, the corn, the slipping river
Made wizard quiet. My noon-sleepy deer
Whisked in the shade, saw winsome sun go over,
And still those wizards brewed the atmosphere.
The lone tall wizard opened up the west.
Sunset made its exit beryl and sheer.
Those wizards leapt like acrobats, swinging free,
Hung their thin capes upon cold Vega’s spear. . .
Galaxies were thick, weather was clear.
— Genevieve Taggard