—for my father
A chord, sometimes just a note,Will bring you. I see you then
Nodding in the chapel of the ear.
Once, twice you listened to me
(and I was not playing) as if
Each note unfolded space.
It is about to rain. Cool has dropped
Into the August night.
I lower bamboo shades on the porch.
They knock as we talk inside
A honeyed frame.
I keep with me this envelope of light.
