On the porch of Room 1, overlooking the Bay,
air washed clean, sunlight a benediction
on my head,  I’m trying to re-inhabit
the time 40 years ago when we were together
in a place nearby.  Will I find molecules
of us still in the air?

This place has the bright clarity of a watercolor.
Palm trees glisten with blessings, the live oaks’
long limbs drape toward the ground, constant
movement in the leaves.  Green life
breathes with me.

This enchantment never ebbs for me.
Down below, the pool boy skims
and I watch the rowing movement
of his shoulders.  Something in me
assumes that movement.  All those
decades of skimming the pool
come back.  I’ve been that body.
Long shadows stretch across the grass.