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November 7, 1982

November 7, 1982

This is an early poem (5th or 6th written) and an early favorite. The fact that it has lasted this many years unrevised, and mostly intact speaks either for my partiality towards it or its value.

"Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth."
- Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862)
from Walden Pond

The rippling water
Sloshing softly against the oaken planks of the pier
Reminds the sailor of imaginary adventures on the
peaceful ocean

Fresh smell of dew
Dappled on morning grass
He's mesmerized and then turns
towards the water
Examines the beach and sees
the connector the living and dead

Grains of sand
Passing time silently
Holding the secrets of ancient times
and remaining there to gather secrets from the future

The sailor turns his gaze
Birch trees come into view
Aging gracefully
In vertical harmony
Arms straining to reach the clouds
But not quite achieving

And sailor, in time
Walks away

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