Dillow, H. C.

English

University of Calgary Journal Hosting

Old Sea Dog at Casey Key This much ought to be said: today the sea Moved against me like an eager woman, And in the white house among the cabbage palms An old man nodded, slept, dreamed perhaps Of randy weather and the ultimate lee shore. Now in late afternoon west-riding thunder Questions our motives and the land's repose, Drubs the last raucous jaybird to the thicket And lays its heavy truth upon the air. Ballasted with its earth-hoard the restive spirit Tugs at its moorings, straining under a thin Parchment of breast and dydlids, ready to break This blind truckling to circumstance. The wind Conceives, in answer to its single question, Merely an echo of the mocking bird's Chaotic medley sung to no higher purpose Than simple heed of the morning's silken presence. Muscle to sinew, bone to brittle bone Body rocks down the hallway in the dark, Listens again to this sudden distress of leaves: The ghost of meaning fumbles at the door. And coursed down eighty years to its fierce perfection, Love hangs in the humid air like a spent wave Casting its shadow on a troubled shore. H. C. Dillow 

Old Sea Dog at Casey Key

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Old Sea Dog at Casey Key

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