The bay doesn't care that I'm watching it.
That's the first honest thing anybody ever taught me.
My father stood at the edge once in his good coat
And I thought he was going to say something important.
He said 'cold front moving in'. And I wrote it down.
I was eight years old and already keeping records
Of the weather in place of everything else.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem