After Work: Foreword Home, then out of the canyon and inch past Shopping center, school; inch over freeway; Veer with the creek that notches the pale clay Headlands and I am at the place at last. The shoreline hereabouts runs east and west. Clear days there’s islands to be seen, any day Sky, sand, waves, light, birds, dogs, people. I’d say Late in the day in winter is when it’s best. Down the long, slant beach, and the wave-tips catch The sun’s low fire, the wet sand’s all red light, The shorebirds eat red light — and all goes gray The moment you turn back the other way, Cliffs, sea, and sky a great cave, in dead light; And the fresh darkness settling, in the stretch. 3