Late Light - Poem by Don Tiedemann
And so at dusk you stand perplexed
By the hushed and waving pines.
Or, sit by the window vexed
By the sinuous designs
Raindrops make in gliding down
A pane of glass, or stride
Into a room and look around,
Bewildered, wondering why.
The forecast says the sky will fall.
It brightens and then disappoints.
The spring peepers resume their call.
A conclusion of sorts? All evidence points
That way. A life as likely as any
Other. An improvised piece played
On an untuned piano. All the
Options you never even weighed.
You carry the weight of the song you hum.
You walk a glacial pace with creaking knees.
The lighting is right for the mood. Come
See. The moon watches coyly from the trees.
You head east toward the first flickering stars
On a street that ends in a neighborhood park.
You hear the voices in passing cars.
There is no need to be home by dark.
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