In Medias Res
On Main one night when they sounded
the chimes, my father was ahead
in shadow, my son behind coming into
the streetlight; on each side
a brother and sister, and overhead
the chimes went arching for
the perfect sound. There was a
one-stride God on Main that night,
all walkers in a cloud.
I saw pictures, windows taking shoppers
where the city went, a great shield
hammered out, my wife loving
the stations on that shield, and
following into the shades,
calling back.
I had not thought to know the hero
quite so well.
"Aeneas!" I cried, "Just man, defender!".
And our town burned and burned.
William Stafford
Posted over on William Stafford Archives
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