AFTER THE STORM

After the storm
evades me
in the countryside
hiding to be warm
in a red brick dorm
as an academic
by the river docks
and deciding to enter
a new passage
in my diary
writing Thursday
on a page
when a dizzying
dusty spider
has fallen
in a single spot
near the anchor
of my kayak
shadowing my daybreak
behind my back
he's caught in the wood
here by harbor boats
floating in motion
by my neighborhood
on the Atlantic ocean
life seems to be at peace
as darkness disappears
near first light
and we increase asking
for our blessing by the sea
as birds are landing
on Evergreen branches
in the morning
rising from our eccentricities
scouting out rumors
like jokers in cards
fall beside me
near the new flakes
awakening
in a dawn of snow
near hayricks
there are oven birds
a dozen of them
we are speechless
reaching out in a language
of forgiving instead
hearing cursing
I'm wanting to pray
here at the river bed
by saying a blessing to God
on the Cape Cod beach
even for the living memory
for the dead.