Long after you have swung back away from me I think you are still with me: you come in close to the shore on the tide and nudge me awake the way a boat adrift nudges the pier: am I a pier half-in half-out of the water? and in the pleasure of that communion I lose track, the moon I watch goes down, the tide swings you away before I know I'm alone again long since, mud sucking at gray and black timbers of me, a light growth of green dreams drying.
By Denise Levertov, from Poems 1960-1967. Copyright © 1966, 1964 by Denise Levertov. Reprinted by permission of New Directions Publishing Corp. All rights reserved.