I MAKE A DATE TO MEET THE SUN
I make a date to meet the sun
each evening the same place. Lately
he's been slipping away earlier and earlier
and sometimes isn't there at all. No matter,
I turn up anyway. I climb into the water
just as he is also dipping in. He melts,
in an extraordinary way, turns the ocean gold.
Less dramatically, I just get cold
and have to swim faster than usual, following
his trail through waves, its phantom
glow of heat. When I get out
I get dressed as fast as possible. Meanwhile
he sinks beneath the water, dressing
himself in stars and afterglow. Sometimes
I see the moon as well, while walking home.
They're related somehow, but they seldom meet.
Hurrying, shivering, along the prom,
I could be passing messages between them.