"At dawn, in mist"

One day I stood, small shoes upon the sand,
and looked across a park through frozen trees;
the thorn and sky drove through my soul;
a whistle blew; I heard the end of things.

They told me while I stood, suddenly alone,
looking over the earth, not knowing what to say:
"Nostalgia," they said, "nostalgia,
a feeling men have; you will know it, later,
all your life…at dawn, in mist…
you and all men, lost, even in the sun's brightness."

Today I stood alone among the men;
a whistle blew…the thorn and sky…
"Nostalgia," they said, "nostalgia."

~ William Stafford, "At Roll Call"

Photo by Maria Browning. Click on the image to enlarge it.