A ferry curls back
the harbor as the train
away, streetside and waterfront,
and cold decks deserted alike
parchment haze of latest fall.
windows, the only witnesses
into landscape: a curb-parked
car, half a dozen shirtsleeved boys
straddling bicycles in the pale sunset,
of Canada geese in a still-green field,
sentinel and ten pilgrims for the south.
marshes reflect the same stolen blue,
peachily as the horizon; each cove
tide-blackened backing of stones holds
breathing endlessly onto the sand.
Unharvested, the cordgrass rolls in swells
tundra and tiger stripes, mirror-eyed,
to islands: each river’s mouth
with industry, cat’s-cradled to rust
stand through freeze and flooding tides;
bridges anchor their shadows in the sea.
eastern moon hangs higher than the sun.
roads thicken homeward, clotting
to highways and high-voltage wires
pigeons flutter up rather than gulls
train pulls in: the last of the sun fires
skyline’s windows like the tips of waves.