Like symphonic melodies, they unhinge,
return remade. I’d have them delight
with sameness and change. When daily
the sun diminuendos, flames the coast
of Maine, eases, teases with certainties,
I’d believe any going blazons bright at coda.

Today the sun’s tinge tickles the curls, singes
the breakers, shudders windows and delights
like cymbal-shimmer. The lobster boats that daily
heave green-hulled delve, then coast
glissando back to port. Their V’d certainties
wing aft, and gulls, like pink iotas,

imprint the impressionable sky with their daily
accusations. Now gluttonous shadows delight
at feasts, grow fat in corners, and the eye must coast
upward like a rising curtain. Tree-

tops, rooftops strain at alpenglow. The daily
drift slips like string through fingers. The delight-
ful balloon climbs on sighs of remorse, boasts

of wonder. How untiringly I crane after these daily
departures, nature’s scheduled flights.

Night after night their dark notes assail me.