Like The Waves Into The Easy Sunsets Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I am always caracoled by the quietest yards of landscaping
Through which the always migrating butterflies and
Serpents move;
And they are ever so wise, or they are not so wise as to
Be frightened by me:
As then the sun comes shining, over new games of baseball,
And the world lights up again across a birthday that is
Never failing,
And we don’t have to wait so long again for another move:
And it feels alright while the oceans are basking,
While they are holding themselves in the deepest courts of
The world,
While the pilots check all of their gauges of all of their
Airplanes over the astrologies of all of those mountains,
Until the purples tend to move again across the tips
Of the planes again,
As your love whispers its perfumes to all the pretty fairytales
As diminutive as my hopes, as they tend to have to move again,
Gathering up the words like a newspaper into another yard,
And kissing other lips upon which they fall again
Like the waves into the easy sunsets, hoping to prove again
To these beautiful things something that I could never hope to prove.