This sad night when loneliness seems too much,
when dark spiraling canyons to despair,
when every thought begins to bellow such
violent vindictives I’m forced to swear
I’ll end it all…some vision suddenly
propels me from my room through my front door
to this brief field and solitary tree,
flexing leaves barely reflecting candor
of full moon—flecks of softest light rising,
jewels of prayer, candles of shimmering hope.
Just why I feel you here, your surprising
warmth beside me, enclosing massive scope
of stars through your eyes, perhaps the moon knows,
caressing your form in its shadowed glow.
Roger Armbrust
September 10, 2011
