I can’t go far. I used to just show up and after a nap I’d be in London. Now I do a little shopping and end up sitting on a bench watching the Bay, the changing light. It changes, that’s its act of being, as I used to say. I change too, but not so dramatically.
Same egret, same Bay.
When a least tern hovers and
hovers, it won’t move.
Author: Tom D'Evelyn
Tom D'Evelyn is a private editor and writing tutor in Cranston RI and, thanks to the web, across the US and in the UK. He can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org. D'Evelyn has a PhD in Comparative Literature from UC Berkeley. Before retiring he held positions at The Christian Science Monitor, Harvard University Press, Boston University and Brown University. He ran a literary agency for ten years, publishing books by Leonard Nathan and Arthur Quinn, among others. Before moving to Portland OR he was managing editor at Single Island Press, Portsmouth NH. He blogs at http://tdevelyn.com and other sites.
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One thought on “Outside Providence LVI (hovering)”
The image of when that tern hovers not moving yet moving its wings so as not to move propoels the poems’s reflection on time and being. This is a poignant and moving revferie knitting together the threatds of finitude and relation as gift.