Recoiled

He thought they’d had, for them,
A quite good day.
He took the garbage out
Before she asked, complimented
Her on the new hair style, and
Listened for some time after
Inquiring as to her day

He tried to make eye contact as
She was taking unusable things out
If the refrigerator and moving them
To the garbage can, smiling on
Occasion to show his sympathy with
The vicissitudes of that day’s battle

He commented on how selfless she
Always was, and how people took
Advantage, sometimes; as she finished
Drying her hands after washing them,
He lightly placed his hands on her shoulders

Whereupon she recoiled, turning at
Once to pass that off as a gesture of
Busy procedure on to the next task, while he
Realized with the first dim realization of
A new forever that
What used to be good enough for her

Wasn’t good enough any more

Fishing Boats

Up early one morning, years ago.

I saw the fishing boats go out
While darkness still enclosed the pier;
I have been up since three o’clock,
And wandered, silently, out here

But others rise as early with
A purpose, one that I know not:
And labor, maybe envying
The life, the ease, that I have got

But it is dangerous to draw
Conclusions from my ignorance:
I’ll never know these lives at all
To say I do would be
Pretense

The Many and the Much

The many and the much,
The chance to run, or touch,
The moment, and the place,
The heartbeat, with its pace,

The fabled and the few,
The everything to do,
The hammering of rain,
The cut against the grain,

The thunderstruck elation,
The time without duration,
The blending in the kiss,
The edge of the abyss,

The many and the most,
The hearts that’s overdose,
And go way past their fill,
Surrendering

And still.