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Years in Just One Place
Don Hynes
The edge of the rock leads down
from the inland hill
like a spiny tendril to the sea
tapering until the finger tip
joins the rise and fall
of wet tide and ocean
as if to receive the tender feeling
of what once was and still may be
the rock more nerve than bone
surface coarse but through it
a gift of connection
to something old and kind
as if some choice were set in stone
a frozen wish from long ago
pulsing with a slow quiet,
believing in all that is to come
through grief and despair
the assurance of many years
in just one place.
Don Hynes