Four Poems

Honey from Palaiochora
It is hard to make out where Palaiochora is
    From here. You have to look up, higher up
Than you'd ever think there could have been a town, and find
    The upright that is not a wavy cypress tree
And that's the tower, still standing, lifted like a minestack,
    A pale sign. The rest is above and below
On ledges but even after you've been up there,
    Even with the sun on it and though you find
The Venetian Belfry that has stood through earthquakes,
    Still hard to believe from here. On the island
In spring being in or out of the sun is black and white:
    You huddle, out; but in you open up.
    
When we got down from finding Palaiochora,
    Carrying our heavy honey in a jar,
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