Thursday, Bill, the Bay
I hear “76 Trombones” coming up
behind me and know it’s Bill
with his little dog and a bag of scones
from a nearby bakery.
Bill turns his tinny transistor off,
and says, “I’m sorry,” showing me
his empty bag. “Late for my walk,” I say.
“Next Thursday,” Bill says, marching on.
I go back to watching two green herons
perched on neighboring boats,
facing one another, still as stone.
*
Donna Hilbert’s latest book is Threnody, from Moon Tide Press. Earlier books include Gravity: New & Selected Poems, Tebot Bach, 2018. She is a monthly contributing writer to the on-line journal Verse-Virtual. Work has appeared in The Los Angeles Times, Braided Way, Chiron Review, Sheila-Na-Gig, Rattle, Zocalo Public Square, One Art, and numerous anthologies. Poems have been featured on The Writer’s Almanac and on Lyric Life. She writes and leads private workshops in Southern California, where she makes her home, and during residencies at Write On Door County. Learn more at www.donnahilbert.com
Donna Hilbert great poem