“Hermetic”: a poem

Hermetic

You, wisp of fine white smoke,

kiss of the breeze on my lips,

smooth as silk that slips

through the tight crack

in well-crafted plans.

Oil flows through a stack of dry stones,

the boundary I set, firmly,

between what is mine and yours.

“Come here,” you say, softly,

beyond the best that thoughts can be,

always seeking to frame the question:

Name the mystery,

claim it with a clenched fist.

Thick clouds above us and a rumble of thunder,

then life’s sacred lesson sweeps through the trees:

This moment,

then transformed into a fresh thing.

I stand at the edge of the river,

black as ink and steadily flowing

as I reach for your hand.

Stuart

6/2/2023