All that can claim this day
The Day Gone Now
The day gone now, the sun hushing in the west.
All that can claim this day for triumph has been
lain to waste and its vanquished soldiers buried
in the dusk. Did you ride a fleet of blue horses, set
their manes afire with speed and forested concourse?
Did you stroll the evening lakeside, search dark
waters for unreflectable meanings in the shallows?
There are pans and plates hissing with the night’s
imminent nourishment and your lips are pursed to
impart them. They will not meet mine and I will go
this whole day on this side of the world without.
No matter that I may eat red berries in the morning
and black ones at sunfall, spring will not confer a
succulence sufficient as can be found in the vintage of
your lips with their bursting press of sugar and youth.
As clouds gather at the feet of the settled dragon, windows
find closing and drapes embrace what light may be found
in a set candle. Sigh and suppered rest remove boots trodden
with fields and all the mudded wonders that travel a single day.
This is what we live for. One can walk the quieting streets
and feel communion behind unbolted doors, hearth-gathering
in the human family, tales and sagas yet to be recounted
and lived. I hope this day has been for you what any day
can be, filled with the love of and for another, graced
with lasting measures of music and whisper, respite from
the seemingly endless bearing of unchampionable yokes.
that have claimed neither victory nor defeat, blank as
church glass at midnight. I will move out into it and feel
the ground move about the sun, a sun that has left your
eyes to wear down my shoulders, to insist I carry it gladly
through the long suffering sky with courage and the lack of it.
I will do this because, like you, I can do nothing less
than live on to give this day my unspoken name.
May 6, 2007