On nights a cloud would cover up the stars
an autumn rain would spell out s-o-l-i-t-u-d-e
on vacant windows, shadows looking out
and taking note of you, their attitudes
much sharper than the shifting shapes they took.
The heavy tides extended past the sand,
potentiating weeds between the stones,
but yet they smoothed further blacks and blues
between their thundering, retreating ease,
were metaphors of living’s back and forth.
The clouds broke up, now satisfied with rain
they made before they made the way for stars.
A solitude dripped off the windowpanes,
the gulls began to shriek above the tide—
you felt uncertain as the shadows reigned.
