Kenneth C. Steven
The Window
The water coming in among the stone toes of the Hebrides,
Atlantic water, somewhere between green and blue
Light like a gem.
All afternoon we pushed ankle-deep through low tide;
Crabs climbed carefully across a white silence,
Flounders boomed away in puffs of sand.
And far away, out towards Ireland,
Gannets drummed into the sea, plume on plume,
Deep into a shoal of herring.
And I was laughing all the time,
Scuffing water with my feet and laughing
In the stained glass window of the summer.
Page(s) 45
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