Columbus, looking ragged by now,
sits on the rock bench at the edge
of the yard. It's Monday morning
and the sky is full of the sea.
Every tree, the sharp-leaf maple,
twisted pine, the vine in the side yard
curling and dreaming her green hair,
listen to his breathing.
It was a rough night and rain
seeped into his shadow, and
the cool October sun
tries hard from a distance
of stars to dry him out.
I want to take him coffee,
bold and sugared. Will he smile
or continue to chew on the twig
at the corner of his mouth.
~~~
