Night into Niebla

I came for the music
of salt laundering sand
and ancient, hourly trains.

There was something about
those cows,
leading their young

beside the cliffs,
bright sun making stark
the contrast

of black and white
on living hides.
I was wearing

everything but shoes,
had brought a small book
about shore birds,

and almost stumbled
as I came upon an object,
round as a planet

but inside out,
smooth throughout
with a rich, brilliant color–

the color of the face
of old men’s clocks,
of ashes nearly ripe,

the clothes
of puppet holders
or people unconceived.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: