Afternoon cooking in the fall sun—
who is more naked
                                   than the man
yelling, “Hey, I’m home!”
                       to an empty house?
thinking because the bay is clear,
the hills in yellow heat,
& scrub oak red in gullies
           that great crowds of family
should tumble from the rooms
                     to throw their bodies on the Papa-body,
                               I-am-loved.

Cat sleeps in the windowgleam,
                      dust motes.
          On the oak table
   filet of sole
stewing in the juice of tangerines,
   slices of green pepper
           on a bone-white dish.

Copyright Credit: Robert Hass, “Song” from Field Guide. Copyright © 1973 by Robert Hass. Used with the permission of Yale University Press.