Odes and Elegies

Neruda wrote about salt
and soap, tomatoes and tuna;
the lemon's round cathedral windows,
pairs of socks. To think about how 
salt sings from the depths of the sea 
and the holds of ships, how a sliver 
of lye and citrus oil can melt the day's
aches away in water— who wouldn't miss
what gives these small, ordinary joys 
the chance to graft themselves onto
our days? If the things we love are also 
the things we'll miss the most when 
they're gone, isn't all language
and every kind of poem, at heart,
an elegy? Hello, sun rising in 
the east. Goodbye as the light
changes from blue to gold and gone.