Not mine, no. But if I’m letting other people speak for me tonight- too tired to come up with my own- well, this is what’s been with me most, these last few days. It’s from Helen Farish’s most recent collection, Intimates. I am repeatedly surprised at how much this has spoken to me over the last year or so.
(The Lighthouse of Nauset, by Helen Farish)
The lighthouse of Nauset
was removed to a field. Visitors wonder
does it miss the tides, living on the edge
of emptiness then fullness?
Here there is only the tickle of a cricket,
an out- of- the- way dusk.
The lighthouse says Listen.
I thought I had no limits,
could look indefinitely at the longing
light lays on water.
Now I want boundaries:
a hedge, plums, more than enough.