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The elderly man sits by a window,
eyes away,
book in hand, fallen slightly,
glasses propped on his high forehead.
What has moved him?
The pasts, the past perfects: each sentence
a forest pool shining with borrowed,
broken light—
a surface of sky—and the long engrossing
dive beneath. And she, interrupting,
watches him,
stilled, until he washes back—
a slight smile, a shy openness
meant not for her—
and marks with a card the place he left.
~~~~

Poem copyright 2025 Sandy Solomon
Sandy Solomon is the author of Pears, Lake, Sun published by the University of Pittsburgh Press. Her poems have been published in The New Yorker and The New Republic. She divides her time between Nashville, Tennessee and Suffolk, England.
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The beauty of simplicity. No wasted words. Close examination turns up significant details, like the sound echo between “watches” and “washes”.
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Yes, Sandy has exquisite chops. Her craft is impeccable.
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I too love the understated power of tender observation in this poem, a luminous moment captured perfectly. And I also (having lived in the UK for a dozen years) love the windowsill pile of books with Camus supporting Roald Dahl, and the avocado pit in water set to sprout. Like the spaces in the poem, the photograph invites us to inhabit Sandy’s worldview while holding on to our own. Thank you for sharing this!
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Lovely comment. Thank you.
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Write on, oh poet of deep pools shining in a scatter of light–
Dive beneath, intrepid Vox Populi reader, to the wonders swimming in these bookmarked pages–
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Jim, you sound like John Keats, but that’s okay, I love Keats.
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This such a peaceful, shiny, gentle, gorgeous poem – full of love. And I AM old too. It made my day. Thank you, Sandy Solomon and Michael.
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Thanks, Rose Mary! I find this well-crafted poem very moving, as well.
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Sometimes poetry just takes the now and quiets the chatter so you can feel the here
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Yes
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!!!
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From the looks, you are not elderly yourself. I am… and can say you have gotten inside my head whi
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I love the quiet elegance of Sandy Solomon’s craft.
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