I’ve chased the light each evening this September
down winding roads, across fields and ditches,
plunging through brush to find sky enough, horizon enough,
to stand in that last lingering splash of kiss
before the sun dives down to wake the other side.
I feel hungry for it,
that mystic moment,
that parting flash of smile,
because for that one sweet spot in time, life feels slow and soft and mellow
instead of how of often seems,
and I join the sky in celebration,
a burst of thanks for the wine and cream
and bristle and blush and gravel of the day,
the all of it weaved together beautiful from parts and pieces
that were ordinary and sobering and glorious and blistering.
I see it, whispered clear in color and light,
this hope in a love that doesn’t leave or go cold,
doesn’t quit on the day before it’s finished and done
and it fills my cup
till some fear gets rinsed out
and some ache gets healed up
and the broken heartstrings of the day get re-strung
and tuned to possibility again.
For that one golden moment, everything seems
glazed in possibility
and that is reason enough.
“Far too many people die with a heart that’s gone flat with indifference,
and it surely must be a terrible way to go.
Life will offer amazing opportunities,
but we’ve got to be wide awake to recognize them.”
from “Saving Cee Cee Honeycutt”