The Ordinary Times

Looking For Someone

Looking For Someone

By William Stafford

1
Many a time driving over the Coast Range,
down the cool side–hemlock, spruce, then shore pine–
I’ve known something I should have said one time:
“If we hadn’t met, then everything would have to change.”

2
We were judged; our shadows knew our height,
and after dark, exact, the air confirmed
all with its move or stillness:
we both were trapped on an odd-shaped island.

3
Sleet persuades a traveler: I all night
know no under the earth escape
even when the sky goes back remote.
Walking till the stars forget, I look out

4
And watch the smoke at Astoria and Seaside
cringing along the coast, and barefoot gulls
designing the sand: “Go flat, go flat,”–the waves;
the little boat, the mild riding light,

5
The sand going democratic, trading places down the wind,
everything distancing away. Finding this
took all this time, and you’re not even here.
Though we met, everything had to change.