From Somerville to Somerset

by Jim Dunn

The sun sets sights not on you
Maybe the raging water knows
How many tears are in
A drop of river rain
How many cries are in
A train whistle blast
There is nothing
Better
Nothing bitter
About parading around
The grounds
Laying low at low tide
Let the blasted boulder
Sink into the silty river mud
Footsteps are tall buildings
Seagulls scrape the sky
We walk amongst them
Gathering silent laughter
Into a bouquet of proses
Lines written
Lines drawn
In sandy hands
Of the pleading sea.