Martha's Vineyard 2015

That wind, that you would swear
 blew straight from heaven's beach,
and the water on the morning grass,
so gracious as to wash my feet,
are not sent by her to bless us, I suppose:
They're just the island's anthem
sung for anyone,
that takes no more than nature to compose.
But if I choose to hear her
talking of her happiness,
and say her tears have dried upon the rose,
who would counter?
Harmless fancy only warms the heart,
and here if anywhere I'd meet her,
and feel there is no need for us to part.

July 9 2015

An Absent God

Sometimes hoping for an absent God
can seem like proof that He is here.
It doesn't always matter if things are real
if they are true,
and having isn't half so much the point--
nor surety--
as wanting, wishing, desperately needing,
and resolving, come doubt or dead derision,
to deserve.

July 6 2015