AS I LAY MY SON

MY SON

WINDS BURN O'ER TIDES MY SON

WITH FORCE; WITH SIEGE AND 

INFINITE WONDER

LEFT BY MANY CREASES

THAT SHAKE, THAT NOD, THAT SHARPEN

TO FINE FINE POINTS THAT PENETRATE THROUGH 

BRONZE AND MYSTERY

SLEEK, STILL AND DEAD BY THE SEA

THE WIND BLOWS O'ER TIDE STILL

AND MY SON, SURELY NOW

YOU'LL SEE

-AL