This is a poem by Robert Hass. I post it with a recommendation that you buy his new book, and look forward to a summer whose spring hasn’t yet arrived.
Tomales Bay is flat blue in the
- Indian summer heat.
This is the time when hikers on
- Inverness Ridge
Stand on tiptoe to pick ripe
That the deer can’t reach. This is
- the season of lulls –
Egrets hunting in the tidal
- shallows, a ribbon
Of sandpipers fluttering over
- mudflats, white,
Then not. A drift of mist wisping
- off the bay.
This is the moment when bliss is
- what you glimpse
From the corner of your eye, as
- you drive past
Running errands, and the wind
- comes up,
And the surface of the water
- glitters hard against it.
This post represents the first of a new regular Friday (I know, it’s Thursday) series in which I will be recommending a book. Enjoy.