1
I wake to the robins and redwings that
stake their ground The Nashwaak claims
a kingsize bed over the whole interval
The farmer's dump's afloat and his manure
pile's wider than his farm I walk
to the river to see in the grey red
marks laugh out loud two
mailboxes and a cocoa-cola sign
Joe's Diner where I count seven
bunched over dim-lit breakfasts
A mother waves and two kids in pyjamas
half wave and keep their hands
half open till their van blunders off
The River's still and brimming It moves on
faster than I see except by the red
drum it rolls snatched from some
raft or jetty upstream Benches
along the bank ankledeep yesterday are
kneedeep today and rent-a-cars
behind the hotel half drown Someone's
been out half the night sandbagging
the river's back premises I love
this mist that mixes daylight into itself
red mist and grey yellow mist greening
land into water water into trees trees
into sky this undistinguishing mist
holds candlelight in willow tips It
blurs mystifies unfreezes I love too
these lights that people set their
borders by crocuses white and purple
that spurt out of ripe old leaves
I turn and walk back wary of hungry
schoolbusses that shoulder out
to set their yellow rules against
this day's unruliness
ii
By the cindertrack where runners run I put
my ear to the ground not as keen as when
I put it to the rail to hear the train
far-off coming I want now to hear
the earth break or breathe I look for horses
to come beating out of the mist
and listen too deep as I can for your
breathing and the songs of the long dead
stretching out their sleep I sniff
what's threaded round the taproots
of dandelions My seismographic
heart that falters when you falter
skips a beat It wants to know the flaws
in your sleep the whimpers of baby groundhogs
or of lovers who turn and whisper to dry
sheets where bodyheat should be