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| Unattributed, from the pages of the New York Review, 4/18/19 |
I didn't come up just to pull you down,
I didn't surface just to pull you under,
But the rain on the sea is a powerful song,
The young violins of the wind and the rain,
The old cellos of the sea, the minor chords,
Cymbalflash lighting the seaclouds,
Restoring the curve of the earth,
And you,
Leaning into the gale,
Long hair aluff and the wind
Stealing my voice,
Helpless to stop you from going.
Weather moves quickly
Crossing the bar.
Mauve twilight in clouds,
Mauve riding the backs of the swells,
A hundred thousand reflections.
The beach dims empty and pocked.
Across the sound at my back
A thin young moon
Settles into red ash
Engulfing the darkening mainland.
