The Visit
Beached in his lean-back chair
He sits reclined and staring into what
I cannot reach.
An introvert at soul, he comes alive
When younger spirits enter, sit
Attendant after banter in the circle
Discovering their own lives inside
His gift of weaving wings from spiderwebs
Memories of dialogs gone by
Characters like sibling stars
Intermingling until
A laugh erupts and bubbles from the belly up
Until it catches fire around the circle
Fills and lifts off high
Into eternal elements.
Inspired by Mary Lou Kowalski's little book of poems and commentary entitled Old Monk, this is the first (and only, so far) in my hoped-for collection: Old Married.
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