He waited all day for the sun to appear
then late in the afternoon like a good prince
it showed itself for a few minutes
igniting the maple beside the unpainted barn
before the clouds closed up again
and all evening he thought he felt
the presence of one long absent
there beside him on the path
where the goldenrod gone hoary
leans and he heard the wind
shaking the withering corn and closer
the creak of trees and the sigh of boughs
and as crimson drained from the sliding sky
he zipped up his coat and warmed his hands
in his pockets and he waited for the moon.
where the goldenrod gone hoary
leans and he heard the wind
shaking the withering corn and closer
the creak of trees and the sigh of boughs
and as crimson drained from the sliding sky
he zipped up his coat and warmed his hands
in his pockets and he waited for the moon.
–an adaption of Raymond Carver's "Vigil"
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