As I Was Prying Around the Brook Last Evening Poem by Marjan Strojan

As I was prying around the brook last evening
and look for God-knows-what around the shack,
I heard from the woods a cry, like someone weeping
in dark and cold - his calling out in fact.
I listened as I would when in the evenings
as hills and ways go dark I sit and stare
for hours on my doorstep willing
the things I'm waiting for - to be out there.
I went after the voice, the meaning
the night was spreading from the forest bound:
someone has called me by my name, appealing
for help - infirm, hurt, unsound.
The moment passed; and in that very
moment all night passed, passed all day, and so
now from the sky stare down extraordinary
stars into the silence of fresh snow.