This view from Grandad’s
Is grand as
I’ve ever seen.
Lights from campus
pass
and double back in a drunken stumble,
Humbled by their slurs and
ignorance to the world they’re just now seeing.
The flashing strobes from 3rd
Drag with them booming beats
Of dancing, yelling,
cheering
For everything that wasn’t left in the dorms.
The homes flicker,
Warmed by their fireplaces
Whose flames escape and meet us
Atop Grandad’s Bluff,
Sharing the care
And warmth
They had seen in their honest homes.

The black that is the River
is painted by the fish
Plotting to feed the city
And
The black that is the marshes
Is encumbered by groans
And snaps of crickets
And frogs
Calling for the light.