Sea Daffodils

Because the book that has your photo
says you'll die tomorrow, here I am
hooked on your single day's extravagance.
For this is the way we ride the dune,
bareback with tilted trumpets, lost for music
and knowing we'll never hear it again
that pale arpeggio of geese pulling south
to one long note diminuendo. Because
there's broken glass left and right, and ants
are heading my way over the sand,
I lean into your cool white space and breathe
a faint kindness. So it is, once again,
the immensity of existing things
rooted here in an exclamation,
six girlish sepals leaning back to laugh.
There's hardly time to understand
...