33 Willets under an Overcast This new and winter term is a stopped wheel To push against, it budges and rolls back Into its rut in a hard-frozen track Through the inside country where I think and feel: Outside the willets land for their evening meal, Their lifted wings exposing elegant black And white zigzags, beside the tidal slack: Gray clouds, gray ocean, and the light still and pale. Whatever was missing from what I did today Is the second overcast to run under here, I puzzle and puzzle under it all the way To my turn-back place — willets again, a pair Alight on a black rock offshore, crying kerlear! Teetering prettily, above the sloshing gray. 67