Nicely laid out. Endings are hard in any genre, but especially in poetry. The temptation to summarize, to spell out the message, to reassure, or in a dozen other ways to pull the poem back from its out-there-ness takes discipline to fight, and trust.

James Wright stuck the landing in "Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy’s Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota." Tennyson closed with a heroic fluorish in "Odysseus." Rod McKuen's "Gifts from the Sea" ends as perfectly as any love poem I can think of, other than Neruda's closing, I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.

And Robert Frost's endings are as consistently satisfying as any poet in the business.