The leaves are falling
The dense green wall of foliage slowly disappears
into yellows, oranges, mixed greens,
the growing bronze of towering oaks,
dots of scarlet here and there,
and in this thinning, vistas opening up:
more than we can,
for it is about us, of course in the long run
though we may not see it that way,
for the vistas opening here, always it seems
to the sea.
The sea that surrounds this island of Beau Port, Gloucester
or the sea tide that floods the marshes
our island sea
it’s sad for those who cannot open up
closeted in importance, or lost in drug fueled evasion
who can’t feel the ebb and flooding surges
of this sea in us and around us.
October 20, 2016
Kent Bowker started with poetry at Berkeley in the Fifties, then became a physicist working mainly in optics. His new book of poems is Katharsis: Sifting Through a Mormon Past. He lives in Essex, next to the Great Marshes and is treasurer of the Charles Olson Society.