We came to visit, though
You’d died that spring;
Came to see, one more time,
Your famous, dense garden
In all its summer glory.

Came to sit under the cedar
That shadows the path
And read your poems aloud
And recall all the times
We’d heard you intone them—

Pale figure in a Greek
Fisherman’s cap
Among the crowded
Lanes of flowers,
Or standing on the porch,
Arm raised in greeting,
The door behind you open—

Your house ready to receive
All your beloveds,
Inviting them to enter.

(for Stanley Kunitz)


*This poem first appeared in Hunger Mountain’s Issue 14: Journeys (Spring 2009).