Issue 155, Summer 2000
I stare out the plate glass window
At sky over the Boston Common
Where seagulls coast past
The bright gold dome of the State House.
I discern formalities in their flight—
The dictates of the wind, for example.
As well as the pace and shape of clouds.
Gulls glide by the window.
Tiny dolphins minus dorsals.
Fin-winged and marine-sleek in the sun.