Thomas Halloran – Ⅲ

Walking Around Iwakuni, the Day Before I Leave 

 

 

 

 

Crossing the back bridge, I almost think

I could wade the estuary.

A returning tide runs strong,

as if regretting it ebbed so much this time.

Egrets ply the crab-fouled air.

On the tiny farms behind the air base

and the town, crops crowd narrow aisles–

plots of lotus, with nervous cranes.

And in the black soak under a cartwheel

of a leaf, a night heron stands quite still,

waiting for the dark it loves and

somehow therefore darkly understands.