In our small universe we imagine patterns
in the howl of the wolf and the pulse of the rivers.
I feel a burden standing in street clothes
in the faint grey light from the chapel.
He found me so-spoken and sober-faced
all trembling hands and stammering speech.
A lile sorry smile arrived across his face
after a second in the nearly impossible sun.
I shared a fight or flight moment
with a religious young man coming from a funeral.