The seals dive in the sun-dimpled bay disappearing into clarity and we sit silent in the aluminum boat as bird-watchers waiting for a call to reappear among leaves. Invisible to our patience, what we name "joy" supples beneath the wave feathers silence in the leaves. Like rain-slicked seedpods the seals lie on the tide-mumbled rocks and we are still in our silver shell as Christmas Eve children in awe of the thing whose meaning is tacit in not touching as in touching we come closest to the meaning of our awe. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HOUSE OF DUST: 1 by CONRAD AIKEN THE WAR THAT ISN'T WHAT YOU THINK by JAMES GALVIN NOT OUR GOOD LUCK by ROBINSON JEFFERS SEPARATION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DAT GAL O' MINE by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE GHOST OF DEACON BROWN by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON |