—The Night Surf, W.S. Merwin, 1984

I sow milkweed and coneflowers

in my barren urban lot—

they draw butterflies and children

as if

there’s still time

Alice roots herself in dirt—

like a tree she converts elements

to nutrients—nourishing her stories

you could say 

there’s still time

Adrienne knows the ocean—

draws sea air into her body

breathes poems out as lifeblood—

you might say

there’s still time

William heeds his island trees—

decodes—transmits their warnings                          

while beaches shrink and drunken Zorba

dances

in the waves