Sunday, December 6, 2009

Shadows of Dawn, Like Smoke

Leaning against a wall
Washed of earth-like gold, a
Wall fading into the
Shadows of dawn, like smoke;
Shadows bending beneath
The first faint beams of the sun,
Beginning, then blinding.
Canvas rucksack beside him,
One strap frayed,
He leans against the wall,
Pulling his coat closer
Against the cold.

Half in hope, the other in fear,
His heart watches as
She fills her own bag,
Her life with him.
She opens a quiet door.
Peers down a hallway washed in darkness,
Glances at a closed door,
Descends silently each step,
Turns a knob,
Steps out into the night
Almost gone, the
Day preparing to begin the new.

He waits, listening for
Her step, the crunch of gravel under
Her foot; the flash of
Her eyes; the sweet song from
Her lips.
He waits,
Leaning against a wall
Washed of earth-like gold,
Rucksack beside him.
He waits as the new-day sun
Imagining the wind.


Maureen said...

Coming here on Sunday mornings is a gift, Glynn. I receive the gift with wonder.

A wonderful line: "His heart watches as /She fills her own bag,/Her life with him."

Another: "He waits. . . /Imagining the wind." I think of God's breath when I read that.

Anonymous said...

Wow. I had the perfect music playing as I read this, too.
Wow. Wow. Wow.

Doug Spurling said...

"Imagining the wind." Ah, and will they grasp it Dear Glynn?

Or does it only matter that they try?

Nice. Thank you.

Anonymous said...

this one drew me in.

S. Etole said...

I've read this more than once today. Thank you.

L.L. Barkat said...

I don't want to say anything. I just want to stand still too...

Marcus Goodyear said...

Glynn! That first stanza is really good. I really enjoy the repeated image of leaning against the wall.