I give this day to heaven.
Nothing prefigured it. It came safe
and suddenly, so without waiting,
that all I could do was stand wild
in the middle of it, allowing myself,
blown, as also the sheeted light was blown
out across wet sand.
This weather had no herald.
An unlikely wind poured down from the wrong side,
so this ocean rose at last
into my reach, cross waters driving
the salt spray of white waves cast
from breakers into the oblique rush of air I was held in
to suffer the sting of sand.
It falls to heaven's keeping
that was hailed in the rage of the lashed ironwoods
rimming the hard sweep of beach.
Sprung from loss, the time is untellable. It brightens
away. Now it's out of my hands.
So breaks the spare joy I was borne to--this day. Blessing,
I tender it. Receive it, heaven.