The mail truck goes down the coast
Carrying a single letter.
At the end of a long pier
The bored seagull lifts a leg now and then
And forgets to put it down.
There is a menace in the air
Of tragedies in the making.
Last night you thought you heard television
In the house next door.
You were sure it was some new
Horror they were reporting,
So you went out to find out.
Barefoot, wearing just shorts.
It was only the sea sounding weary
After so many lifetimes
Of pretending to be rushing off somewhere
And never getting anywhere.
This morning, it felt like Sunday.
The heavens did their part
By casting no shadow along the boardwalk
Or the row of vacant cottages,
Among them a small church
With a dozen gray tombstones huddled close
As if they, too, had the shivers.
Charles Simic's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Late September by Charles Simic )
- थिरिँ बिरिँ #55, Ronjoy Brahma
- Snail, Barati Lesetlhe
- Holy Mother -Saroda, The Emblem Of Kali .., Bazi alis Subrata Ray
- थिरिँ बिरिँ #54, Ronjoy Brahma
- मेगनआव गोग्लैदोँ, Ronjoy Brahma
- Sun, Barati Lesetlhe
- Moon, Barati Lesetlhe
- Letters to the heart...., Nandipha Mphanya
- In each day's silent need (Italian sonnet), Gert Strydom
- Despair, Gert Strydom
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