and the clock-steady rhythm of my feet against the damp earth cling to memory as night's dew clings to the grass. The dark folds draw me inward. They are cool and soft. I feel no pain. I remember how it used to be: the tight pounding in my chest, starving lungs. My body would scream out against me. I don't remember when things changed. But now there is no pain. Only the hot flush and steady rhythm.
The night was cool and peaceful flowing past. She parted easily before me and danced through graceful swirls at my back. Beneath the corner of the lumber house, I saw two men, grimy and bent from the day's labors. The dim, steady glow of a gas lamp lit their faces as they contentedly exchanged the last weary smiles of the day. They spoke softly with the settled faces of brothers or trusted friends. They could not see me. The light would not allow it. I smiled when I saw their faces. And they were past, folded into the elegant night.
0 comments:
Post a Comment