July 19 Poem

Light is reflecting off the water, right onto the bottom of this pine bough I lay under

(And every needle is shaking in the same way the water light is dancing)

And onto this trunk and part of the scene behind it

And somebody is using a circular saw on Toby's Island,

Nearby

Do you understand what I am saying? Not only the miracle of laying under a pine tree on a soft bed of needles on the edge of a stone island at dusk. And of the soft pine bough so near above my eyes (the needles are shaking in the breeze). But also: it is strangely illuminated with quivering water-reflected light. And not just that, but all of this quivering is of the same tune: for the needles are shaking in the same wind that ripples the water-light. So that, there, above me, is a vision of delicacy so powerful it is almost beyond my ability to see it.