Baffled dread one day,
hope the next; hope
shifts; dread returns, then
that also lifts. Sometimes
in California, hearing sentences
like, “The storm gates
have opened,” or “Storms
have lined up out
into the Pacific,” you
experience a cheerful scraping
between depression & what’s
here; in Portuguese, saudades–
there’s no English equivalent.
Crows over coast live
oaks, laurel saplings covered
with lichen veils in
oat-grass fields. The moon
is in Gort, Celts
might say. Ivy dies,
clinging. You drive along
thinking of a friend
who has forgiven you;
vineyards very gold, that
gold of school pencils.

……………

Brenda Hillman (1951). Practical Water. Wesleyan University Press. Middletown, CT. 2009.