No one has ever named it.
Incomprehensible island
that we recognize and love,
you are strange, like us, like the sun
reaching the top of the sky.
Beyond me, the red swale bends
over tunnels dug for winter-
I am a man sitting down
to a cup of hot coffee
and the silence of known things.
Days break open and are, and
everything is understood.
The sunflower seeds I planted
in the shade did not grow, there
is only the elm yellowing
in the distance between me,
the river and reflected hills.
It’s true I keep listening
to the laughter at the root
of my tongue, and I can’t go on.
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