Nighthawks, by Edward Hopper
I sit by the side of one who watches
like the stars at night without sleeping watch.
My friend sits on the roof at night.
I attend that watching.
During the day I help with the gardening.
He is both a tender of flowers
and flowering trees.
It is no shame to be in this friendship,
or if it is, it is.
I was on my way elsewhere
when I saw the nightwatchman
sitting on the sky's roof like a guard.
Like a king, like a gardener in his garden,
rainwet stones, like the body's hand-me-down.
