Two Poems by Noah Warren

CALENDAR

Some waves came up overnight, though in Norderney, there was no weather.At the commercial wharf, a thin stream of white exhaust rose vertically from the ferry.The first service would depart soon. The puddles lay dark in the stone streetsand in the garden, and on the narrow walk. A bank of haze hung a hundred metersoffshore, perfectly still. While at the end of the long pier, the shallow-bottomed that Tomas had restored, good at hauling, bad at sailing, knocked against theIt was regular enough that you began to expect the next knockbut then there was none, or two came quickly together and the effect broke.Marta had been up before us, and made coffee, and laid the table for breakfast.A blue cloth, mugs, plates, and silverware, three zinnias in a thin white porcelain vase.We helped ourselves to brown bread and cheese and the least strange-looking of the meatsshe had rolled neatly on the tray. We ate quickly, gazing out the small windowat the blue and purple sky, the path down to the water, the long pier.