Afternoon Conversation

The physicists have been talking all day,
Of gluons and mushroom varieties over coffee,

As the pervasive pewter outside
Doesn't yield to periwinkle blue
But the subtler pewter,
The days that flash late peach across the grays,
Of empty buoy cities fixed in white.

The seaweed swirls, the seagulls squeal,
A cauldron of possibility for barking geese.

Nothing's kept the witches from their walking.