Elizabeth Bishop, 1946

From a magician’s midnight sleeve
    the radio-singers
distribute all their love-songs
over the dew-wet lawns.
    And like a fortune-teller’s
their marrow-piercing guesses are whatever you believe.

But on the Navy Yard radio aerial I find
    better witnesses
for love on summer nights.
Five remote red lights
    keep their nests there; Phoenixes
burning quietly, where the dew cannot climb.