When pelicans struck Princeton Lagoon
it was beautiful as autumn saffron
one afternoon in a maple grove.

How can I recall the serene moment
as I tell what diabolical realms
I scour for love’s vindication?

I heard a willow whoop above Fresno
last Christmas and a cold stream
fallen below stone, I saw an owl
calm as mistletoe asleep in its branches.

And O Nan, gulls here swim in the river
past sundown!

There’s a pale green like a rainbow
in the breakers every morning
and a whistling from stairs brown as
mushrooms near where the sandpipers
jab inexhaustibly for Christ’s nails.

Maybe God has seaweed between his teeth
and people rib him a lot, I don’t know, but
this evening I saw light-rimmed clouds
over Trinity Street and longed to tell you.