--for Mr. Perry
One summer day at Silver Beach,
the sky dull, the sea abandoned,
dim as dusk he comes, the old man.
Once he salvaged lawn chairs,
repaired and sold beside the road:
please deposit fair amount.
Now, it's cans.
Alone along the breakwater,
oblivious to lines of bees,
he searches barrels, savors refuse,
nickles on his mind.
Wind blows his faded shirt.
Rain threatens his hunched back.
Sack full, barrel empty,
he lifts his head, he turns to see
a flash sear the troposphere,
outline violet the edge of cloud,
illuminate with its indifferent light.
I am working on another 28 poem chapbook titled "Indifferent Light." This is an old poem from my Cape Cod days. Mr. Perry lived in the garage of the house I rented. He owned the house but rented it out for income. He had two ancient dogs, Snowball and Pwincess, who loved to chase my cats.