The Return to Milan

From the prow, Prospero sighted the pier,
The goods in crates, a dog, and calloused men.
The dog was yapping at a bright-eyed rat --
Lurking between a post and a snake of rope --
which had once been fierce with hunger and hope.
Then, a sportive lout, a willing hound, and that was that.
And Prospero wondered, "Why did I return?" Amen.
Why do we return? Poets shouldn't outlive Shakespeare.

I quit writing poetry in the 80s.
For some reason, I resumed.
Quelle dope.