CHOICE

I remember how the wind
shook the lake out
gently
as you would shake a blanket
gently, a worn blanket
you were afraid to tear.
It was evening and the water cold
beneath, but on the surface warm
where from the westering sun
waves came
nuzzling at the slippery fur
of lakeshore rocks.

I picked my way over
the slime and lichen
and kneeled into the curving wet
until my flesh blended
into that kindred flow
and swam until moonrise
glistened the lake
and the forest went all ghostly
and there was no more wind.

Was land or wave my home?
I must have chosen land.

          Ted Black, 4/8/2013

DISCONNECT

We are so hesitant with our connections –

tentative smile – neglectful nod –

and the handshake of passivity.

I want to shout and run about

and say, “How glad to see you!

How’ve you been?  Where’s

what’s-his-name who used to tag along

behind you?”  But I only

smile wanly and half-nod

as you turn away

unsatisfied.

               Ted Black, 2/2/2011