HOMAGE TO ALLEN TATE

Like his mentor Dante
consenting to the stillness
of faithless neglected voices
in unrequited words
from who by loyal clouds
and stones of home harbor
move the swimmer,
let the seas be transformed
by nature's compass located here
at summer's long shadows
of days among the last snow birds
in glances at Elm branches
when their whistled music
rolls over your lips
from March walks
holding your greensward breath
by veteran death in a memory's war
from rain lancing trees.