Havre De Grace
for J.M.K.
A summer night. The sea. Maryland passing,
passing the train, just now, look at the light
in the poplar leaves, and the sea gulls taking
the air like old men on the pier, feeling
the light grow cool against their folded wings.
passing the train, just now, look at the light
in the poplar leaves, and the sea gulls taking
the air like old men on the pier, feeling
the light grow cool against their folded wings.
On a cinder path a boy is cantering
his pony, bending like a willow branch
between the poplars and the first few stars.
his pony, bending like a willow branch
between the poplars and the first few stars.
The sea is quiet at its western edge and thoughts of another summer touch
my window, brushing my heart with salt,
calling “Look at us, look” as the wide sea breaks.
You’re gone. That’s all. The day is old as a stone.
my window, brushing my heart with salt,
calling “Look at us, look” as the wide sea breaks.
You’re gone. That’s all. The day is old as a stone.