Coastal Epiphanies

Clouds so low they move
        against themselves in parallax,
                        putty gray on an icy blue.

The boat moves too
                    on top of inky waves
    bouncing in the sprays

                            that should feel chill
but somehow don’t;
            October sun a fine companion.

    And they go on in horizon tilts—
the furthest ones to cumulus
                        infinities and suddenly

            there’s something I can see
    as God
or anyway it’s not

an empty dark or angry dark
                but something stark I’m part of;
    a piece of some blue process

    that goes on without me sure,
but I was there a moment
                                    nonetheless.