There are only so many solitudes.
\nWine with cherry blossoms
\nin the center.
\nThe creak of timbers in a roof.
\nMy father, as I see him,
\nlost in the swells of Sandusky Bay.
\nWhat did he see?
\nWhat was he seeing?
\nSails he sailed
\nwith no harbor for his thoughts.
\nA dark recessional.<\/p>\n
Solitudes encircle me like woods
\ncircling a meadow,
\na warbler trilling above its silence.
\nWhere is the bric-a-brac of meaning?
\nNotes in books?
\nDried flowers?
\nLocks of hair?
\nThey bring their solitude with them.
\nChin on knees.
\nSurf sounding.
\nTerns calling.
\nThe sky for company.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
There are only so many solitudes. Wine with cherry blossoms in the center. The creak of timbers in a roof. My father, as I see…<\/p>\n