September 27, 58° N
We stay up late to watch
the last cruise ship leave—
the Zaandam with its sheets
of yellow lights, curtained deep
into the still, black water.
We watch until the last edge of light
is drawn aside and then
we can see the dark stage
of water, the delicious
drama of winter, about to start.
What is summer with its flash
and sweetness compared to this?
Bring on the leafless trees,
the skim of ice on curb,
the shimmer of light on a cold glass window.
We can hardly wait
to see who will first appear
on stage, rising out of the deep
place we visit, when the house lights
finally go down.