of Wind and Sun
Bailey’s Island, Maine
October 22, 1999
The last few leaves, outside the windows,
twirl madly—they can’t hold on much longer
against the thrum on the house, hearty
and insistent, that makes the sky play variations
of cloud, rain, light. Last night’s storm
makes today’s entertainment the arc of water
plumed out of a lobster boat. Stippling whitecaps
buffet skiffs that rest like paperweights
on dirty paper, tugging their painters.
Safely inside, a book, a mug of cocoa
offer sufficiency. Tonight the cross-cove lights
will dance, and maybe, just maybe
it will clear enough so the moon, nearly full,
can grandly occupy its prideful, richly-deserved place.
Copyright © 1999 by John Hildebidle.