into the depths of another
Having little warmth
I waited with him
seized by the ceaseless
suspension of time
And my fury
It upheld me

Dry leaves wither
Autumn is fading

Scanning the sky
he stands among trees
I listen to silence
an uneasy peacefulness

Searching and waiting,
I keep close to him — a body
in the freedom I have lost

I follow his trail
what is really there
He tries to see
at the edges of things

a stranger, possessed

My heart is transfigured

He is the hawk
He is the ten-mile walk
and I follow his fear

He is alone
He is the insatiable eye
the sky flows out of
to keep the birds near

— Pam Rehm (© 2008)


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