YEATS IN MEMORY

Words of love joining
in an above mentioned hour
when your cycle was over
we still remember
to hear in your breath
the recombination of language
in each variation's power
until your message
reaches us of your death,
for no poet is ever pensioned
just given a coin or flower
without a choice reading
rooted in deep voice and verse
here on the ocean
the swans are feeding
by the black clear waters
in the dawn so many birds
are by the seashore
and motion to ask us
what are we here for,
as we recite your poetry sounds
in the scattering sunlight
on Irish grounds
in memory kept tight.