The Millennial Pedestrian

Time Zones

Amid the hush of purple forest
a butterfly — a monarch —
kneels in air to kiss a milkweed

in the ruined city
a woman touches
her grieving neighbor’s cheek

with pink sandpaper
tongue a cat laps up
the milk from a jade bowl

a baby holds soft flannel
to her cheek. She shuts her eyes
to make a wordless dream

a battered skiff slips toward a lakefront dock.
The oarsman throws his friend ashore a line
so the boat will hold fast

and on the river bank where eddies swirl below
the young boy strokes his dog’s familiar coat.
Shoulder to shoulder they await their catch.

Touch is silent
its promises
precise.

In darkness we await
whatever comes
to touch us next.

A new dawn
touches shaded windows
and we rise.

This entry was posted on Saturday, May 5th, 2007.
It's part of the New Poems category.
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