Me with his questions. He can't understand
Why gods and heroes cause so many woes.
Odysseus, with his lies and murders -- not a bit nice!
Couldn't he practice a gentler kind of vice?
These Afghans, skinning the Russian infi del
Alive! Blood-smeared old Faiths, awake and well,
Infl icting on us still their gruesome folly ...
Why can't we all be good, and kind, and jolly?
After the fi rst big rainstorm of the year,
And the tide low, just a few people here,
Wave-watchers, mostly, shapes making upright
Thick ink-strokes on the louring watery light
Between gray waves and low clouds, and the air
Sharp and the beach vast, gaunt (with here and there
Rank kelp-heaps), bending fl atly out of sight.
I'd fi nished fast and started cooling out,
There's a big Swede nearby doing same,
Stretching and bending and then gazing about --
And edging my way, I see, as if by aim;
He says, "It's beautiful, in its own way,"
Walking past. "Yeh, it's beautiful," I say.