The Lord sits with me out in front watching
a sweet darkness begin in the fields.
We try to decide whether I am lonely.
I tell about waking at four a.m. and thinking
of what the man did to the daughter of Louise.
And there being no moon when I went outside.
He says maybe I am getting old.
That being poor is taking too much out of me.
I say I am fine. He asks for the Brahms.
We sit and watch the sea fade. The tape finishes again
and we sit on. Unable to find words.
— Jack Gilbert, “The Lord Sits With Me Out In Front,” The Great Fires: Poems 1982-1992. (Alfred A. Knopf, 1995)