ON SUMMER STREET

You are reality
on Summer street
energized by the sunshine
discovering a young poet
now walking up
the Fine Arts museum steps
by sleepless French windows
nearby visiting Rene Magritte
by the reading room
opening up to his "Empire of Light"
through sleepless windows
watching a grackles nest
glow by white marble stones
resting on wellspring shadows
of daffodils, aspens and asphodels
cupped and coupled by wrens
passing under night lanterns
by the flickering tall grass
now mustering a seized vision
covered by early Fall's leaves
a red bird wings and feathers
burning from the sun
into a now blinded shade
on the Common's park bench
examining Dickinson's words
by the waters glen and glade
watching at the Fenway pond
of bright red turtles and ducks
by lily groves, dunes and trees
on moistening lukewarm waters
as robins rest on Greek statues
calcined in folklore's insolent myths
of painted arrows and bull's eyes
piercing our lost memories
to wish for open hands
in a Moses fishing rod
praying for halibut
salmon, mackerel and cod
over the Atlantic ocean
as a caterpillar rides
on my right shoulder
a wise woman walks
motioning with an Asian parasol
to keep her from the heat
watching her borderline smile
passes by us with weary feet
as the poet not wishing
for any public disclosure
in his private posture
whirls on a branched hammock
as if in God's sorrowful mystery
of his secret phrase of words
hides him in a fissure of rock
near a chorus of songbirds
and graying pigeons
finding strawberries
on unmade river beds
reading Whitman in the woods
along the sailboats at Bay
he carries the berries in a basket
to his neighborhood
stretched out
for a long August day.