Upon Returning From the Store and Storm Front

That small valve
Squeezed like tiny fruit
Between delicate fingers
Those fingers that massaged for relief
Or cupped the back
To bring something up
An issue
Since first light so bright
Then those same tender hands
Crossing each other
Then arms in cradle
Supporting the loving weight
Strong enough for burden
But praying for shifting measures
Those same measures taken
By younger hands
Once held against side
Now actively participating
Showing lines of lessons
Not prepared for silence
Balled up in conviction
When tigers and bears get housed
We write stories
Release statements
But that original drink
That dumping of excess
A microscopic pantry
Swung open and catalyzed
Brought to conclusion
But not completion
When streams recede
And valves go dry
There is a painful residue
We walk upon
Until everything goes hard
What's left is story
--
7.29.13