Listen to the world’s best poetry read out loud.

So these are the veils of the morning,
the last gift to be given
by air and into air,
and by the slow sun
heavy with all the days of the year.

To say I can’t get close enough
to this cold chemistry
is wrong; nor am I close
to its distance; for each way of saying
creates another veil.

So these are the veils of a landscape
that luxuriates the thought of you
as you tilt your face towards me,
looking and looking
for that shiver of peace.