Friday’s Poem: Solitary Encounter

It’s what you are thinking that wears you down

plus a dull afternoon that promises to shine

but does not. Yet you push on.

It’s not you who move your feet, they just take you

so it’s round the corners, past silent houses, under

bony arches of trees you want

to call out by name like friends.

Your shoulders sag: trees have no names,

they have no use of them, thriving in community,

and long outlive your sort.

Fine mist veils your eyes, covers your hair

but there must be more– it cannot be otherwise.

You come to this place as often before,

where an angel has life immortal in stone,

so does you no favors. It only waits.

Yet you step inside the mossy wall

to gaze at blind eyes, those ponderous wings

that should lift it upward to heaven.

Such an angel, this small one,

it dreams impossible things; it endures;

it bears the elements; speaks no ill will.

You close your eyes and mind slows,

skin feels rain as silken air, and

your breathing in this time between time is enough.