in memory of William Stafford

A cool shandy on the sweating screened porch,
the ice tickling air, melting silver chimes.

In the full hug of gulf wind, the weeping
willow curtsies branches, shushing the air.

The dog twitches asleep on the rocking
shoofly, sniffing rain in dream, dreaming meat.

The ice splinters the wind-wept willow, which
shadows the dog in the draining sun till—

Tomorrow, and the cool shandy again.