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light like the beautiful trout fly name:
pale evening dun
Cold spatter of rain, then wind. Last night the tide
Covering the beach and sliding up the rocks
Along the cliff s, driving the sanderling fl ocks
And me elsewhere, now a beach fi ve yards wide
All kelp-heaps and scattered stones, and a rock-slide
At the point, wet shale in jagged blocks
Angled for twists, foot-slitherings, bone-shocks;
And pooled and trickling water on every side.
I rock-hop past the next point. Here the air
Is quiet, the ocean crump-crumping its tons
Well out from shore, the nearby water still ...
Stretch of smooth sand! with a boulder here and there,
Standing alone -- black rock, gray water, duns
Of wet sand, cloud-roofed, in the even light; so beautiful.
running in the rain, high tide
Rain slanting past and no place here to run.
In the cold deepening dusk there comes the roar
Of water much too near; as the car door
Caught by a gust swings wide, I see the brown
Waves smack the cliff s. Well, head for the next beach down.
Bulldozers have gouged it up and gullies pour
With the runoff , crumbling, forcing me to detour
Through garbage to the blacktop (it's near town).
I run in a dazzle of streetlights and car lights
My glasses streaming, and splattering along
Alone, think of the swaggering word invictus;
And sprint back through the drench against a strong
Headwind, wearing as the car comes into sight
A combination grin and runner's rictus.