These concluding lines from Linda Pastan “Last Rites” Paris Review Issue no. 207 (Winter 2013)
What’s left is a blur
of sky where the weather
rehearses its own finales.
What’s left is blue emptiness
behind the white sail
of the nurse’s starched cap,
steering her out to sea.
remind me of Ian Hamilton Finlay
EVEN
– ING
WILL
COMETHEY
WILL
SEW
THE
BLUE
SAIL
Of course the similarity is but a faint echo… appropriate for quiet exits.
And so for day 2884
04.11.2014