High in the chestnut tree I watch the sea through the leaves, waiting for Daddy's sail to come home while Mama talks to the things she sees. Singing all night she gathers shells by the tide's white mark; pale as the chestnut's steeple of flowers her voice spills petals into the dark. I go into my room and straighten all of my drawers folding my shirts and rolling my socks to close her song behind the door. Rocking, kissing my hair, her arms are locked about me; good in her lap, I mean to be still but my body drowning twists, runs free, runs down the daisy meadow and climbs the tree to ride where the wind sings in Mama's high voice while I watch for Daddy's sail on the tide. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FRAGMENTS WRITTEN WHILE TRAVELING...A MIDWESTERN HEAT WAVE by JAMES GALVIN THE LIFE SO SHORT by EAMON GRENNAN TO GOD THE FATHER by KATHERINE MANSFIELD AT SAGAMORE HILL by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SQUIRE BOWLING GREEN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS CORTEGE by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |