nostalgic sundays (the four o'clock hour)

For William and Emily MaxwellAt this time of dayOne could hear the caulking irons soundAgainst the hulls in the dockyard.Tar smoke rose between treesAnd large oily patches floated on the water,Undulating unevenlyIn the purple sunlightLike the surfaces of Florentine bronze.At this time of daySounds carried clearlyThrough hot silences of fading daylight.The weedy fields lay drownedIn odors of