After a Friend's Death
It must be summer. Push the dock out,
Bring the canoe down, find your old
Books - bird books, Hawthorne. Drive
To Gooseberry. Even in the Swedish islands,
Summer comes. They pull the linen off chairs,
Bring out the blue dishes, write some poems.
Say again: "It must be summer."
Even though people die, it must be summer.
- Robert Bly