Roy Herndon Smith
Home, in the eye of
a centuries-long storm of
civilization,
the domestic heart
pulsing in, perceptual
stillness informing,
the whirling cosmos
of whirling bodies, I am
recalling Greenport,
there, on the edge of
the city storm, where the wild
domesticities
of squirrels, babies,
mothers, winds, trees, and seas speak
unfathomable
languages we are,
we know; we together with
all while away time
and space, silences
and words, suffering and joy—
love’s eternities.
dust 