In the Open

"Those summer nights when the planes came over
it seemed it was every night that summer
after the still days of perfect weather
I kept telling myself what it was not..." – Merwin, from "In the Open"










There is enough light here
a certain radiance that signals
from somewhere behind the eyes
they tell us not to crave
here the feet enter the time
of the last receding of ice
here is the easy fire planted
by the bank of the originals
no mystery in keeping hands
warm or the far off cry of baby
same eyes delight in the incalculable
radiance of first snow
how the flakes the size of thumbnails
cling the sounds of things
and leave a formed hush
and I alone stand still along
the modern bridge creek in sound
creek in love as it should
creek to bound up its hips
along the banks to seek help
When young I came to know
the edges of everything
where the yacking tongues of the city
dimmed and retreated
to its own silly halls of streets
and where my dog and I's
voice sung silent to the forest
There's a creek in the sky
it is all around us
the white of the innovation
of mind sends its signals