I can hear the water slapping
the white sides of the shore.
The boy stares out the kitchen window.
It hangs like a little square of cold before him,
a pane of shadow. The night outside this shadow
is black. The sea is distant. The bird,
however I imagine it, sings.
—Paisley Rekdal, closing lines to “Nightingale,” from Animal Eye (University of Pittsburg Press, 2012)