19 Moon Measuring Moon’ll be rising. There’s a few people here In the chill of the sundown, some of them regulars — Old tilt-hat’s there on his bench, photographers Stand waiting for the colors to appear As the sun drops. Pelicans swing in near The flat beach where the sea now mildly stirs. They fly in line, casting a row of blurs Of pelicans on the slick swells they barely clear.… The boys are home, all three of them this time. But they ran earlier. Turning back I pause To watch the dead white half moon on its climb, Which one of them said, a lunar month ago, “Looks like a helmet” as he rejoined his slow Parent along this stretch. And so it does. 39