As days shorten in the colors of fall
and we wait for winter’s chill
deep in some ancestral memory
we feel the predator in our souls.
Stalking eyes of mortality
stir the spirit prey – with keen awareness
we scan the event horizon
for signs of our impending demise
while slowly chewing our daily denial.
Who is this man that I’ve been waiting for –
this rough palmed roofer sliding into my life –
quietly nudging my restraint aside?
He slid into my sheltered reverie
and opened my being to his experience.
Covering me with unvarying tenderness
he found the dragons I harbor to myself –
and, fearlessly soothed their chaste wings to soar.