THE SETTING SUN

1.

I’m glad you like it, he said,

since it may be the last of its kind.

There was nothing to say;

in fact, it did seem the end of something.

It was a solemn moment.

We stood awhile in silence, staring at it together.

Outside the sun was setting,

the sort of pointed symmetry

I have always noticed.

If only I’d known, he said,

the effect of words.

Do you see how this thing has acquired weight and importance

since I spoke?

I could have done this long ago, he said,

and not wasted my time beginning over and over.