Silence is never silent:
summer wind
rattles the doors
with oncoming
sound of afternoon thunder.
My dog
sleeps a deep
slumber
unmoved
by the tink tink
of my laptop,
or the curtains
swirling
song.
These winds
are as predictable
as the march
of time –
I close my eyes
so tired
from the wide open space,
the onslaught
of so much beauty
and color
exhausted
from drinking in
the endless
night sky
glowing
planets
shooting stars
clusters of bursting light.
At this height
the air is dry
and brittle,
cutting
grooves
in my tired skin.
Yet,
my lungs
fill like the clouds
in the afternoon sky
warm –
I imagine them in my mind’s eye
pink and light
content
drinking in
the purest
thinnest
most exquisite air.
With my eyes closed
tight
I can still see
the great horned owl
winging
by the road
in the night sky
under the car’s light
intent
on small
comical
deer mice:
long snout,
big eyes
huge ears:
clowns of the prairie.
Sometimes,
I have to stop
dead in my tracks
and notice
because
if I don’t
it will be all too soon
too late:
too late
for thoughts
dreams
words
deeds undone,
all too soon
regrets.
I close my eyes
like
prayer
there in the dark
I see the unspoken
the gesture
graceless
fallen
till way too late.
The wind reminds me
days
move
beyond any landscape
past many years,
centuries
even,
to the same
quiet
sigh.
I want to die with no regrets
on a day like this
when the wind
sings so loud
the hair
on my dog’s neck
turns
from brown to grey
in the blink of an eye
in the flight an owl
in the song of the meadowlark
in the dull thump
of elk storming down the valley.
I want to stand
with my eyes closed
on top of this mountain
and whisper
to the furthest stars
“ I have not wasted my life.”
