It’s funny (strange, not Ha!) how dark the world can get
sometimes; not a soft gentle cloak that envelops and
comforts, but jagged and hard
like those medieval walls with pointy shards of metal
I find myself stumbling around there now
and again hearing the voices of the people I love
but somehow unable to answer
hearing but not hearing, being touched
but not reached.
And then the world turns a little bit green
and the sun comes out the sky a painful blue
and a gentle breeze chimes the wind chimes and rustles
the capiz shells of the lamp they
laughed at me for buying
and I find myself in the light again.
I’m going to go out, now, to
water the hollyhocks and clematii
and spray the deer repellent around the lawn
and then I’m going to read in the chair
on the front porch;
Dexter the dumb dog on my lap;
watching the light.