I don't want him here if he's not here to stay, to live, to sleep, to
love.
He came to sweep the bamboo leaves and culm sheathes off of the front
steps, to spend a bit more time cleaning my floors, to clear
spiderwebs out of corners, and to momentarily enjoy the quiescence of
my tree-enshrouded self.
I'm glad though that he'll be leaving soon, unable to clear all the
glistening spiderwebs from the upper branches of the hemlocks, unable
to nap on a bed under my ceilings, unable to enjoy fresh cool water
from my pipes. If he won't live here with his family, or release me
into the care of a fellow human, then I don't want him or anybody here
to interrupt my silent contemplation amidst the constant late-summer
leg-rubbing buzz of the wonderful crickets.
Good. His sweeping's done, he's priming to depart, mail picked up,
steps swept, spiders re-spinning.
Silver silence for me.
..HF.
Sent from my iPhone
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment