AUTISM: A POEM

. . . . . XIV. Lake Gulls at Daybreak

Again the daylight begins
. . . . . in stages as a vague sun gives way

to flames rising high behind
. . . . . that drapery of gray sky still shading

a smooth glaze of lake water
. . . . . tinted jade beneath it. A tattered

patch of flat pasture borders
. . . . . this shoreline, an edge of dead grass

aligned alongside the dunes,
. . . . . where white-winged gulls with ringed

bills fly by, lift, hover above
. . . . . in an onshore wind. I watch my son

run through a few shallow
. . . . . pools along the soft slope of beach.

Each time he reaches out
. . . . . toward the birds floating overhead

as if holding a bright new kite
. . . . . with tightening string, feeling every

bob or weave aloft, hoping
. . . . . he might reel one in before we leave.