I wrote this poem for my daughter’s wedding. As I began to read it at the reception, which was held in a large tent, rain and thunder began to pound on the roof. I imagine very few people actually held it, and the tent began leaking as well. I’m pleased that it finally made it to publication.
—for Julia and Robert
I want to give you a poem with a pond in it,
and if you see a heron glide down,
to fold the blue smocking of her wings,
swishing silence, remember her
when you stand at the edge of things.