Ruth Lepson

SWAMPSCOTT HOUR

The seagulls spread out in a line by the edge of the water
like a string of Christmas lights unravelling.
Ducks, dark as the darkest rocks, form a circle in the sea.

On the drive home, there's a huge sun
and its reflection on the telephone wires,
golden white like Christmas lights too--
something turning into something new.

Cool wind--
something new
something old.
Black birds fly.
Black stars in a white sky.

HAPPILY

If you were going to get a pet
what kind of animal would you get.
from Robert Creeley's "If You"

What am I to myself
that must be remembered,
insisted upon
so often?...
from Robert Creeley's
"The Rain"

I.
A gold dog
to accompany
me everywhere
it would shine
where I went.

II.
I have a gold dog.
He waits for me
to go to bed.

III.
...although life
is not smooth
words at night carry me
to the room
I'm already in
and it has a gold dog in it
and I'm
in it too.

WHAT DARWIN SAW: THE ANIMALS OF PATAGONIA

Like a musical score, black and white birds rise from the shore
though the Andes have taken the rain and the birds find no shade.

Animals bathe in sand to rid themselves of insects.
Petrified trees lie stacked in the sand.

Huge eyes gaze across the huge plain
where bachelor herds of rheas gallop on skinny legs.

Sea lions swim in to breed,
bulls and cows clump on the beach.

The penguin's gland filters salt from sea water,
a cormorant tries to hide seaweed under her wings.

And here comes the hairy armadillo:
claws, armor, hair, baby ears, sniffing.