The Shack on the Hill

IMG_2620

The shack, red and old

alone on the hill.

The sheep grazing below.

 

That’s where they meet

at sunset.

The colors play on her face

Her hands play on his hair.

When darkness reaches its fullness

Only touches reveal each other’s presence.

When the moon  rises high

they descend the steps.

Their goodbye is a promise

to meet again

on the next full moon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Encounters

How many of 7,401,858,841 humans have you encountered?
Imagine a universe of possible connections.

When I arrive low tide has almost emptied the river
Revealing muddy banks and signs of old dredging.
A fisherman immersed in his cell phone laments
Absence of fish, a blue heron is tiptoeing beside him.

A cyclist-friend walks with his bike with me,
Says his father has been seeing butterflies
Fluttering on his bedroom wall in the morning
A slow narrative increasing in length.

I chat with a whistling man
Walking his corgi diminishes, he says,
His disillusionment in life. He starts
Remembering the different kinds of trees.

The hills are yellowing before me
Before the summer solstice.
Seedless watermelons selling for $4.99 each
Outside a grocery store next to a bank.

That night I hear
An angelic voice singing a lullaby
Which comforts me
To a deep sleep.

if you walk tomorrow, bring water in a bottle
and an extra step. The whole day may be hot.