YOU’LL RETURN TOMORROW, WON’T YOU?

The sea’s foamy lips continue to smile at Pärnu
but a fly on a coffee mug’s rim wears the face
of summer’s end. This year you will eat better
than last, you say, and next year even better.
Why then look at everything so darkly? Houses,
roads will wear a new, golden sheen, don’t you think?
The sea and Pärnu will keep smiling. Wolf, Bear,
Ash, Oak, Alder merely lend surnames to these people,
evoke memories of the forest which too soon, believe me,
will wear a golden sheen. Even before you can think:
the parachute didn’t open. Your voice, when
you said, well, come to meet the bus tomorrow,
sounded as it once did, as it always has.