ISLAND IN THE BAY
Things come together so.
Our vague tomorrows, crowd into a space
No larger than this room, and meet and merge
Directionless as August butterflies.
Small wonder that a name escapes us now,
A face is lost among so many faces,
A voice slips by unheard.
We nod at noon
And lie awake at night and watch the clock.
Small wonder that we are obsessed by time
When time is all around us, closing in.
Remember when the island in the bay
Was small and dim and half the world away?
Today we see a house, a clump of trees,
A picket fence we never saw before.
Perhaps we grow far-sighted with the years;
Perhaps the island too is closing in.
Thank God we are together, you and I.
Here in our corner, backs against the wall,
We brush aside the blurred, untidy wings
That beat against us so, and when I say,
"The island in the bay is nearer now,"
You place your hand a moment on my hand
And do not smile, because you understand.