Night-Minutes

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When night covers
All like a cool silken blanket,
And the house creaks;
Before bird chatter
Begins,

When the Moon

Casts a thin glow
Like a tight-lipped
Grin;

When to rise up

And sit is

Resignation

And the bedroom chair is

The loneliest

Spot;

When the only
Conversation
That
Can happen
Is the narrow
One-way

Banter with
The Possibly-Divine;
Then I bring
My questions.

Why is
Life
So easily misplaced
Among

the
Seductions of
entertainment
and the pleasure of things
To which we grasp
and cling?

Will we have decades
Of joy together?
Years?
Mere months?
Or
Minutes?

 

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