Voices on the Wind
Voices on Aging
Excuse for being permanently delayed
by Mark Vogel
The winter dark again shocks alert,
the alarm sounding expectation cutting through sleep.
The old man knows immediately a dog outside
chained to night mystery incessantly barks at clouds.
On clod feet a gritty skeleton lurches to insistent habitsó
a throat clears sludge, a stare decodes the mirror face,
a hose sprays ancient urine. Again, a damp
aged intimacy smells rich and aware.
The winter dark hears in the distance the young argue
there is no going back as outside energized traffic
already rushes close. Shadows reveal a
a weakened morning, where drizzle freezes
on stained concrete. A whistling gust shakes
resigned bushes, a gritty white grows in strength,
promises to make the future fully stiff.
Yet inside, a warmed cocoon force-feeds coffee
before a shower thaws a crooked smile. With
expectations lowered, dreams come of the East,
where heat and summer sun rises, bringing
barefoot freedom, a leaking exotic language.
Already a simple question drives forward like a truckó
how to get there, again, even for one instant,
how like an innocent child, to fully be.