Well, I want to read a couple very recent poems
before going on to The Folding Cliffs.
And these are one of them.
One of them is from the book that
comes after The Folding Cliffs, which comes out next spring,
called The River Sound which is a book of short poems.
And the other one is more recent than that.
This one's called, this is the one from The River Sound
and it's called "Waves In August."
It's just written about a year ago.
There is a war in the distance with the distance growing
smaller.
The field glasses lying at hand are for keeping it far away.
I thought I was getting better about that returning childish
wish to be living somewhere else that I knew was impossible.
And now I find myself wishing to be here, to be alive here.
It is impossible enough to still be the wish of a child.
And you sighted a boat under the bushes beside the water,
knowing I would want it later and come back
and would find it there.
Someone else took it and left me, instead,
the sound of the water with its whisper of vertigo, terror,
reassurance, and old, old sadness.
It would seem we knew enough, always, about parting.
But we have to go on learning as long as there is anything.