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When I look at the sky now, I look at it for you.
As if with enough attention, I could take it in for you.
With all the leaves gone almost from
the trees, I did not walk briskly through the field.
Late today with my dog Wool, I lay down in the upper field,
he panting and aged, me looking at the blue. Leaning
on him, I wondered how finite these lustered days seem
to you, A stand of hemlock across the lake catches
my eye. It will take a long time to know how it is
for you. Like a dog’s lifetime—long—multiplied by sevens.
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