I’ve been sitting outside
Working outside, we have,
But oh Lord, the black flies,
And just now persistent
This summer.
The other night I started to think
About unthinkable.
I’ve been here before.
When I think about this all
I remember crossing the bar
In Astoria, with uncle Jack
A bar harbor pilot on the Columbia.
He took us deep sea fishing.
A wild mile wide, that bar into the ocean.
Once a bit ago
When trying to get my balance
I thought about crossing the Rubicon.
The shorthand of beautiful languages, oh
Those poets of human passages,
Their words settle around my shoulders,
Whispering
Or maybe just the long sounds of night, shhh
Listen now, memory so vivid, and
The further I go with my stories
The more things seem to knit
Together,
And there will most likely
Come a time when the good things
About the old ways rise like a sweet mist
To bring us back, changed and in tact.
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