Particle Theory

	In the oyster, the small pain
	Of sand produces the pearl,
	Glowing with secret glazes wrapped atwirl
	Around the aching grain.

		In the autumn, the death
		Of a lone leaf leaves beauty ere it falls,
		Glowing in crimson-gold until the breath
		Of frost and sweet oblivion calls.

			And on my marble catafalque I lie;
			You wait in your ivory tower.
			A scrap of verse expands to fill the sky,
			A moment's joy is spun into an hour,	
			And a smile becomes the miracle of the ages
			As we sing to one another from our cages.

					-- Jean MacKay Jackson