Under Memory's Lintel Poem by Fred Rik Kesner

"under Memory's Lintel"


The wood is worn smooth
where his shoulder leaned
while he waited
for the rain to cease.

Thirty years of rain,
thirty years of standing
with a folded cap
pressed between two fingers.

To cross over is to leave
the shadow behind;
to stay beneath is to become
part of the frame.

We choose the shadow every time.
It is cooler there, and the threshold
does not demand to know
where we are going.







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