for leonard

a pleasure washes over me,

a night fire warms my socks &

the moon is full and casting a light

on the ice night lake across the way

and down the indian path to where

the canoe sleeps beneath the bramble bushes

covered in a light snow that fell

earlier in the day.

i wish that god had found me sooner.

i wish that  more of my days had

been less dazed by the fog-like haze

that covered my brain like the

light snow that covers my canoe

by the lake near the indian path.

I am not sure how big a difference

it would have made.

It took a long cold winter night to

finally get me to light a fire in the

rusty cast-iron stove that burns the

wood and ignites my desire to write

to you now, by a dim light, a candle or two,

and tea that comes all the way from china.

It has always been about you, you know.

Though I pretended well, and made much hay

of it, while the sun shined on the younger

part day.

Eclipsed by a fast moving cloud, the moon lite

night faded dim and the shadows left no

sign of where the light had fallen.  Light

leave no trace when it fades, no foot print

to follow, no track to smell my way back

from where I came.  Traces, we do not

leave them when we finally leave for good.

The scent is gone, the moss is covered,

an oak leaf hangs from a branch fluttering

in the wind, blowing as the gust of cold harness

shards of ice and brakes them into a thousand

kisses deep, sharp against the flesh of my face.

Leonard, it was always you that gave me pause

and made it right.

my monastery by night.

3 comments on “for leonard

  1. Clare says:

    I love the poem. beautiful.

  2. I read this over and over for a half an hour. It is mesmerizing. You continue to amaze Doctor, you continue to amaze. You are an inspiration.

  3. Abby says:

    So beautiful, thank you.

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