The last poem I'm going to read is the last poem
that made it into this book.
It's called "Composition".
If I could tell the story of my life
it would be the branch drawing its tree on the hard wet sand.
It would be the man stopping to erase the tide from his mind.
It would be the waves sealing his shadow with all the changes
only the clouds could bring.
And if someone else could tell the story of my life
it would be the poem I never wrote from a book of poems
I never opened whose page was missing
once all the leaves had gathered on the porch to listen.
It would be the man stopping to adjust his posture
on the abandoned road.
[APPLAUSE]
I'm happy to take any questions if there are any.