MIDLIFE

​

Suddenly he woke to the sound of a bell

tolling beyond history.

The moon lapped at his bedroom window.

Outside the branches thrashed,

shadows soothing his naked form.

​

The room swam with ancestors.

At the window the curtains billowed.

Far off, a gleaming lake

in the pocket of a blue mountain.

Drifting now in life's open boat

​

he tore up the old rules.

That dawn they drifted down—

a snow flurry in suburbia,

absolution for his wasted life,

confetti on a new existence.