In the empty of the evening
In the remnants of the day
When my head was half deciding
That fatigue would have its way,
I could hear the bamboo singing
Like it did before the storm
And though a north wind blew,
My heart surrendered to the warm.
In the solace of the evening
When the jasmine liked to bloom,
I imagined that our garden
Still released its sweet perfume
And the dog napped on the porch there,
And the cat pounced on a leaf,
And your love filled all the spaces,
Leaving not an inch for grief.
In that cool, deceitful evening
I imagined you with me.
I imagined that this barren place
Was as it used to be;
I imagined all the houses,
All the people back, and then,
I imagined that the old Green Bridge
Was painted green again.
copyright 2011 Rhonda Lee Richoux From a dream I had after Katrina that our life had returned to normal, that Eddie was still alive, and that the rusty bridge we still insist on calling “The Green Bridge” was painted green again.
STORIES OF THE 504 