My friend Jim says he’s spent most of his life
building a bridge out over the sea.

He knows he won’t make it to the other shore,
but he keeps on building.

High above the waves, breathing salty air,
he works slowly and with care

now that he’s no longer young. There are days
when the ocean below him

roars like an animal easing its pain.Music
to my ears, he says.

He often sits wagging his feet above the abyss.
“From here,” he says,

“I cast my longing into the mystery. At night,
alone with the moon

and the stars beyond, it feels as though
I’m as far along as I need to be.