The Screen Door

A door closed today.

In a hammock my form stretched and twisted until pleasant comfort was found.

My glasses were pushed high upon my forehead.

Squinting I read about how eyes can and must see afresh a poem read long ago.

The words remain unchanged but the meaning shifts as when light fails across a sundial.

Throughout the day the light is the same light from the same old star

But as the moments pass the shadow falls differently and a reading of the shadow and of the light marks a different thing, an hour gone.
A poet's words are both light and shadow in the head and in the heart.

Gold green the grass dances in the perfect breeze on this perfect day.

The scent of grilled food is carried by the perfect breeze on this perfect late afternoon.

I napped today as my magazine fell aside me.

It was an honest nap.

It was a nap of freedom such as I have not felt in many, many days.

I may have drooled.

I may have snored.

A squirrel, the squirrels???? was/were working overtime in the old walnut tree.

Bang.  Rustle, rustle….bang.

Walnuts struck down on the old deck’s wood and woke me from lost moments

I dreamt sweetly of old flesh and kind words.

I dreamt deeply knowing the end is so much closer than the start of the path and that

                this late summer reverie will be gone in just a moment.

The sense of infinite time pouring through my fingers left me with that dream,

And with the banging of walnuts upon the deck.

A door closed today, a screen door with gossamer webbing but life is now forever divided.