No Need to Rest

For my aunt.

She looked up suddenly from her work
to find him standing by her.
How long have you been there,
she asked. Not long, he said.
Well, a while. Can't you take a break?
You've been working hard.
You should rest.
Pshaw, she said, as she rose,
dusting her hands
once, twice,
on her trousers. I don't need to rest
if I'm with you.

January 29 2015

Silk from the Ceiling

How does a spider know
when
to
stop
dropping?
Is it just that it senses
its silk sacs depleted?
Or does it have the feeling:
I have reached the point
of no return. No choice:
up
back
climb
must
I
and eat my progress on the way.

January 28 2015

Working At Home II

To find myself almost at home is a warming thing.

Soon I will drop the leash and he will lollop

into the yard to stand,

reading the morning news.

Coffee expects me, and I will not disappoint.

In the pool of halogen light 

we will commune

before the whitening glow 

of our waking master. 

January 24 2015

Returning

I have been on a long journey, he said,
and his accent sounded different.
I considered him odd, and was not sure if he deserved
my pity or my contempt.
I have been away because I had to be,
he continued seriously. There were things
I had to do, demons to struggle with,
conclusions to reach.
And have you reached them, I asked
with utmost kindness and civility. Yes,
he said, yes, I believe I have,
and he showed me his hand,
and shamed me to silence
with the ugliness of his wound.

January 9 2015