And When It Comes

Warm evening, open window
a swirl of sound
and we stop and put our elbows
casually on sills and listen to a whisper overhead.
Long hours pass
shadows turn their faces
up at the moon
and it is still possible to take old paths in easy woods
to enter borrowed rooms and dim interiors
to wait
and when it comes, so careful, so complete
it settles on the dark side of the pillow
where light ends and the other world begins.

Ruth Daigon | Mudlark No. 25
Contents | The Season of Return