Late
       

The cold night is starry.
The starlight has no warmth.
A loved one is standing
farther away, farther
than I can see.
The sky is getting darker
earlier. December's well-lit nights.
Sometimes waiting alone
after work, I feel
like I'm watching magic
on the window.
Like somewhere
white gloves raise to music
and there are car lights
passing streetlights.
The light inside the coke machine
outside the car wash across the avenue
is the same as the light of the stoplight.
That the light could almost change color
and mean its opposite.
Doesn't white, white snow turn
to spring flood? Can't a blue horizon
fill with warning? These things
happen. They're possible.
I have no music,
but sometimes when I'm waiting
I get patient.

Copyright © 2010 Marc Rahe All rights reserved
from The Smaller Half
Rescue Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission