I took a book of poems by Kay Ryan out of the Greenport library today. She just won the Pulitzer for poetry. (Have I told you that the Greenport library doesn’t charge late fees? If you want to put money into the jar when your books are late, you can. Otherwise, they can just be late.) Anyway, I was blown away by this, which is the title poem:
The Niagara River
As though
the river were
a floor, we position
our table and chairs
upon it, eat, and
have conversation.
As it moves along,
we notice—as calmly as though
dining room paintings
were being replaced—
the changing scenes
along the shore. We
do know, we do
know this is the
Niagara River, but
it is hard to remember
what that means.
