High Windows

"By day we pace the many decks
of the stone boat
and at night we are turned out in its high windows
like stars of another side..." – Merwin, from "The Estuary"










here there is always a coming back to
shadow
here along the tangled spine of trail

we do not hide above the footbridge
which has laid over the swift
tongues of the November creek

the steepest sandstone cliffs
listen to our own echo as the walnut strikes
or the boot soles slide over morning ice

the saws of yesterday still sound to the other side of the hollow
and the last morning wren
colors the the gray air with its punctuated note

the tumble of the lost stone dumbly spreads
the car lights probe
nothing but the bald naming of hours

that cross this life