before day, in the fog
the wind chime tinkles, a warm
crystal clink to belie the
bone chilling cold
first light sketches in
the lonely old lane,
tall loblolly pines,
the blue heron already alert on
the front pond
bewilderment consumes
the hour as words fallen stonily
between us say
we are overwhelmed
by the power
of what has changed
red cardinals hop about,
peck under the pines for seed
as I search your face and my
heart - neither speaks
of anything familiar
it is done -
these lame gestures will
surely be strummed away
like the folly they are
gusts lift the dried leaves
and thunder rolls in the
distance of our twin discontent
white puffs from the chimney
mirror scorched moments of
everything we are -
but duty calls. the day begins.
we assume the
shadowed, shackled visage -
two faces, two masks, struggling
hard to carve themselves into
a smile
--Jo VonBargen 2011
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