An insect clinging to driftwood in choppy water
that’s how I felt
small alone bewildered lost
looking for a swift escape.
Not a good place to be.
Scanning the horizon for a buoy
a lighthouse a beach
any mooring.

In the next room she was reading
and with a timidity belied by the long golden strand
of our marriage,
quiet, almost shy I went to her
and said in a worn voice, I need to talk.

Me in my otherwise articulate self
was foundering throwing about for words
finally admitting I was dumbfounded
sodden by fatigue
from the self-imposed tethers
of friendship and loyalty.

Boundaries, she said, boundaries.
You have a young mind in an old body.
Let go and read some poems
and write one.

She knew what I needed.

White trapezoid streetlights spill
amber blotches on the avenue of walls behind them
on the wonky bench
she leans on him
their coats and their bodies
warm them this cool evening.
The rectangle of light he holds grips them
their intense focus on a video, oblivious of all else.

Does he even feel her hair on his cheek
or her hand on his inner thigh
or care that her knee touches his.

At least they are present together
their bodies touch.
Their warm breaths commingle
but do they even notice?

Is this a non-cyber moment
an intentional prelude to intimacy
or merely two atoms about to make a molecule?

I cannot know the worlds two people are entering
or divine the wispy cloud of their intentions  
but I can ****** my imaginings into their night
and wish for them the warm might of love.

I could hear the sky’s unsteady dripping,
comforting as I slept in the cool fall morning
the Navaho-patterned quilt
warmed my body
resting quiet in the blind pull of gravity.
How sweet life is sometimes
age dripping gripping me.
But for now I am without a care.

Can I find a spark in this darkness
see through this grim mass
that surrounds my small galaxy
to see a dawn
within that gloomy volume,
experience colors unseeable,
hear a beating heart,
feel its pulsating energy?

I cannot imagine grace
its slow quiet crawl
into my soul

I watched the squirrels chase each other
along the long limbs of the cedar elm
as its leaves fell sporadically
silently whispering
the approach of autumn.

I took a deep breath of cool air
thinking thanks
for mother earth
her gentle breeze stirred the trees
leaves slow dancing with the sun.

I sit comfortably pleased by the pleasance
of this bright day
and the final flowering of sage.

I push through the fog of doubt
convinced on the other side
is the light of day
clear and bright.

I see your action in my life
and feel it as surely as the air sweeps into my lungs
when I wake and my body moves
into the new day.