Answer

It is a questioning gaze

through many-fingered trees, across the marsh

to where the line dividing waits

for stars or cloud

or whatever will arrive,

and the sight of departing birds,

and the cold that bites your fingers through the gloves,

and the prospect of returning

through rapidly dropping dark,

to where your car is freezing

and your dog jumps quickly in

so you can drive him carefully home

to a well-earned supper,

and the memory before sleep

of a calm, dispassionate place.

 

January 7 2021