The harbor, in the mind’s eye,
finches everywhere, hoptoe beggars,
clouds visiting,
ice cream boxes with white tops….
Breezes, toujours,
now zephyr,
now lamb,
now colt,
skimming irresistible airs….
Nearly all is just that far away,
vaguest sounds,
l’eau, sur mer, surtout,
motion, in little speeds….
There are others, chance greetings,
face to face….
Hello.
G’day.
Ailo.
Sir.
Me.
Madame.
You.
A moment to gaze at you, between us,
gazing, always,
hunger, rapture, dream keeping,
aye, we are dream keepers,
with books,
belles livres,
we arm ourselves for solitude,
but coolly close them,
to open for each other….
Toll the hour, careless of the day,
sounds in seeming silence,
faint ends of words drift across the bay,
with birdsong raveling out….
The birds sing “today!”
and we murmur “yesterday,”
and tomorrow’s languid wing rises up, unseen,
and sweetly pushes down a twirl,
one smoothly eddied fan of lightest air,
to chase the changing shadows
where we stood awhile….
At Cambridge Beaches, Bermuda
1993
Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2016 All rights reserved.
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