Looking to the West

for Matthew and Ginger

We are looking to the west—to the old Smith Tower
on the left, to tinted office towers on the right,
to the piers and giant cranes of the Port of Seattle,

to whitecaps on Elliott Bay, to seagulls in flight,
to the Puget Sound, and to the Olympic Mountains range.
Breezes are light; the afternoon sun is bright.

We gather on the courthouse roof to turn the page
on the past. A judge with the matinee-idol look
begins to speak. We are present to witness the change.

Decision point: there is no turning back.
Eyes are brimming wet, but voices are strong.
In this moment, old sorrows fade to black.

Where do we go from here? As the old song
explains, We may lose and we may win,
though we will never be here again. We are looking

to the west as the sun declines to the haze horizon.
Where do we go from here? Will all of us hold,
or will our gathering scatter as we grow old?