On asphalt slickened by the rain

A meditation

On asphalt slickened by the rain


The stars burn coldly on a moonless night,
and the wind softly moans an ancient mode.
Treeless leaves crackle beneath my feet,
each breath's a dagger cloaked in steam. Clumsily
I crash a path through the woods to find my-
self standing on a bluff overlooking my house.
While remnants of this morning's business
drone on inside, I remember that spring
when we laughed at the laces of my shoes
and swam in the sunlight—when our naked
feet skidded across the moss greened rocks
like tires on asphalt slickened by the rain.