Breathe in thank-you; breathe out good-bye.
Li-young Lee
Here, on the cusp between
gratitude and good-bye,
I note the waning
waves seem louder than
before. Down the shore
a kingfisher pierces
the water. A minor feat,
repeated hundreds of times
a day, hundreds of days.
On his low-lying rock
he hops back and forth
facing east, then west.
To far to tell what
he found, maybe a clam,
the way it separates
his beak like pincers.
East, then west. West,
then east. How is it
memoriam in-
fuses every sky?
This morning, as I stepped
from the forest onto a beach,
hundreds of cormorants,
an entire nesting colony,
flew up, all at once,
and it seemed to me a sign--
a gigantic fabric flapping
sorrow loosened
at last her voice rippling
like light on the water
as lake breezes lift
the locust's delicate leaves.