You and I in two separate frames yet
still connected. You constantly running
down mountainsides seeking peaks, brief vignettes
of stumbling, even drastic falls, rising
again to run. I watching this in prayer,
recording this in sonnets, knowing this
by heart, like Orpheus, having gone there.
If we ever cross references, kiss
and hold one another—exhausted friends
and lovers in surrender—I’ll welcome
our intertwining respite, gracious end
to a beginning; welcome what’s to come
as ancient poets who, etching stone pages,
envision images lasting through ages.
Roger Armbrust
August 2,
2013
