Hands dream as they fashion,
remember what they feel
(her thin shoulder,
a 9/16 inch wrench).
Let go. Follow
the sculptor's trade.
Find and shape
what is not known
until it's made.
For John von Bergen
Elegy For Simenon
Fresh air, faintly salty,
smell of bark and fallen apples,
small pond, lily pads,
dark water. White blossoms
tinged with ruby, floating,
heavy with light.
You enter one, still searching.
Slowly,
petals fold around you.
Deer Isle, Maine
Unfinished
Your hands
for clothes.
Your legs,
home.
We
For w.cat
Married twice,
once in a church,
once in City Hall,
each good in its way.
Now I choose the shade
of a live oak tree, veils
of Spanish moss,
a hundred cicadas
singing in the branches.
You are in the north,
but still we join
beneath this green
and raucous dome
Mated. Complete.
Mindful
of those
alone.
New Smyrna Beach,
Florida
***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOOK WITH THE YELLOW COVER***
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