Another night staring
at the moon’s perfection.
In the silent house
even a stranger’s aimless words
might be welcomed.
A man can wait a lifetime
for a knock on his majestic doors.
Morning laughter.
Anything to fill
the rear view with something other
than the motionless.
I make a small breakfast.
In the empty room
the silverware seems loud.
By the window, a bird.
By the door, a fox.
I would welcome the rumbling earth
if only to convince me
I am still here.