Sunday, September 22, 2024

1161. Evening Ebb - Robinson Jeffers

The ocean has not been so quiet for a long while; five night-herons

Fly shoreline voiceless in the hush of the air

Over the calm of an ebb that almost mirrors their wings.

The sun has gone down, and the water has gone down

From the weed-clad rock, but the distant cloud-wall rises. The ebb     whispers.

Great cloud-shadows float in the opal water.

Through rifts in the screen of the world pale gold gleams, and the evening

Star suddenly glides like a flying torch.

As if we had not been meant to see her; Rehearsing behind

The screen of the world for another audience. 




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