In front of me, the gone-away
Parades the pretense known as now.
Now the helicopter shudders
The hazy, hot, blue summer air.
Now the sound of a hammer bangs
From behind green neighborhood scrim.
Now a squirrel barks down by the lake,
A pick-up truck accelerates,
A waterfall on the far side
Hums under the calling of crows.
Now voices from a hiking trail
Float up. The far-away recedes.
It's been a hard day for the heart,
Flushed by lack of sleep, frustration,
Bursts of exercise and complaint,
Love-making, fantasy, despair.
There's bad news in the air. There's war
And the rumors of more out there.
But it's alright now. It's quiet.
The gone-away glows. I don't know.