I see you, refulgent ones,
Burning so steadily
Like big white arc lights...
There are so many of you.
I like to watch you weaving—
Altogether and with precision  Each his ray—
Your tracery of light,
Making a shining way about America.
 
I note your infinite reactions—
In glassware
And sequin
And puddles
And bits of jet—
And here and there a diamond...
 
But you do not yet see me,
Who am a torch blown along the wind,
Flickering to a spark
But never out.

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Kathryn Mills
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