There wasn’t yet a sun.
The sky was still empty.
The man who did this job
before me could stand so quietly.
He could make a whistle from the seed of any fruit.
Once he made a kite out of newspaper
and he told stories about the stars, and about the earth.
He told them to pass the night,
and because his heart was a reflection
in the soul of the world.
You would have loved him,
but it would have been more than that.
I started this without any answers.
I didn’t have a choice.
I had not yet learned the terms for patience
or for holding hands.
I began at the beginning
when words were only pictures.
Later, I’d wait patiently with belief, and
type emails to distant friends.
I would walk in the woods,
sit down there, and turn
and hold the things I’d find.
Or, on some walks,
I’d take photos of flowers and mushrooms
with my phone. Who really cares.
Pull down the covers
pulse, erect, moon, leaf, smell
listen through the walls.
__________________________________
From ABC Moonlight by Ben Estes, available via The Song Cave.
