April Twenty-Sixth

A brief interloper, I once was

In a year long affair with an apparition of myself; akin

to have come to the edge of a dark pool,

dipped my toe in,

scuttled–fallen, aghast– backward.

To watch the sun rise and fall,

the moon rise and fall

and feel no more different

Until this evening

under a rose oil bath water sky

I blinked twice, hard  and

My elbows became my own

My hips became my own

All parts of anatomy so rendered under God

United with my soul,

the twist and snap of old walking partners

falling into a comfortable stride.

A laugh that sounds like a bark carried by the breeze–

a soft and unheard resolution.