September 28, 2013 § Leave a comment

They were small waves,
More the likeness of time
Than sorrow —
Sorrow is great and breaks
Along the beach
Lonely under the search
Of gulls and white
With seafoam:
Crest and
Sky the gulls carve —
These were sidelong,
Hurrying swiftly
To the coming tide.
The bay lay curved
Within the land,
Gulls crossed the moon
The light came on
The hook of headland
Beating up the course
Of ships home.
The air was autumn.
More than the swiftness of her cheek
Were the waves
shortly borne.

— Ralph Gustafson, “In time of fall,” Rivers Among Rocks (McClelland and Stewart, 1960), 28.


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