The Summer Countries


Opened, clear as a child’s geography,
The summer countries, the hills
Folding and unfolding. Sunlight
Stretched long upon the beach, hung
Folded and unfolded in the nets,
The land a long morning, the morning
A land, its hours clear and still
As pebbles, corals, blue shells.

As for the first time opened

And the whole sky caught among
Its nets and pebbles, the country never
And always open, and time burst
Into the first time, fell
Cadenzas of first light along
The long beach. It was
Both land and morning, and the light
Was loud and everywhere like bells.



Henry Rago

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