13 JANUARY 1967, Page 20

Be Careful

Four steps cut in the snow. I mounted; on the right Four blobs of tired blue. (The wind is tough: lean out.) I felt snow stroke my boot, Then crunch, submit.

Descending (take hold, wind) The blue forget-me-not Glowed brighter. As I leaned Awkwardly to the right A lark sang far below.

My left foot stroked the snow, My left hand caught the flower, I saw its yellow eye Burn loud. Its blue was fire.

It tugged, let go.

I leaned upon the air, And there was nothing there.

LAURENCE LERNER