Poem for the Summer Solstice

Here is a slightly expanded version of the poem I wrote yesterday while watching the sun set with my wife on the back porch.

* * * * *

 

Now comes the first day of summer

And already time has stretched

Out to the horizon

Much as the clouds do

And upwards ascended

Into my neighbor’s treetop

Where this finial of light

Makes a last stand

To mark the zenith

Of the year

Short poem written as live blog post on the back porch

Now come the first day of summer
And already time is stretching
Out to the horizon
Much as the clouds do

*  *  *  *  *

The next morning I woke up early and added another short stanza to this poem which you can read here:

A Poem for the Summer Solstice

An Evening in June Paddling my Kayak Homeward on Weesuck Creek

The sun is setting

Just ahead of

Of the starboard bow

If I let up paddling

For ten seconds

Or less a stiff north wind

Will push the boat

Around and back out

Towards Shinnecock

Inlet with all that

Such a name implies

But what

A peaceful night it is

With the egrets

Lined up along

The eastern shoreline

Wading out amidst 

The creek’s detritus

Knee deep into

The outrushing tide

For whatever hapless

Minnows may happen

Their way

But for me

The controls

Were set long ago

And here I am still

Going at it and paddling

As hard as I can

Straight into the heart

Of the living sun

            

The view out towards Shinnecock Inlet

A Swan I Saw One Night

I came across the notes for this poem in one of my notebooks and I realized that I hadn't quite nailed it the first time.  There were still a few lines missing.  Here's the complete thought (for now).

A Swan I Saw One Night

A swan I saw tonight

Sleeping by the mouth

Of Weesuck Creek

Head tucked under

Its wing all but indistinct

A pile to the right and

Looking ass backwards

Much as I was

And outward

Towards the sea

Pensive and proudly

Surveying the night's

Indisputable truth

Not so much mindful

As empty and still

A Song Written on Returning Home

Look again
You'll notice
Signs everywhere
That explain which
Button to push and
Which key will fit
The front door lock

If you're lucky I mean
You may have received
Instructions that spell
Out every last step
You need to take to beat
A path back home 

Yet still there comes
A moment when you have
To take matters into
Your own two hands


There's no other way
To return home
Except by turning
The heart's cylinder with
Your own sweet hands

Memorial Day, 2014

It’s not yet June

Yet the lobby brings

Relief from the glare

Of mid-day and the

Fake stone tiles 

Laid down in the hall still

Hold on to night-time’s cool

In their own ersatz way

And I hate to imagine

The utility bills

That will soon be

Heading this way

The Moment Ere

for Michel


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Today I can almost

Feel an electric charge

In the air with the humidity

So high as the pace of change

Accelerates and the plot

Yet again thickens

To the consistency

Of a rich béchamel

But not yet nor ever

Do I imagine it’s likely

I will come to rue the day

We first met Richard