A Poem for a Monday

I have called 6 different cities home. In each place I have not only made friends and acquaintances--there are also all the faces who remain nameless but that left an impression on me all the same. Years later and I can still recall people I used to see at the grocery store, the gentleman I bought vegetables from at the farmer's market, cashiers at places I frequented, or even those who made a habit of passing my window on their walks while I happened to be looking out. And then there are all those I have encountered only once, some oblivious to my capture of their faces, like the guy I refer to in the poem below. Just a glimpse and these people awaken something inside me--a smile, sympathy, an idea, a kind of love. Out of the blue I find myself remembering these nameless people--where are they now, who have they become? Our encounters with others live in us and remembering keeps them alive. I find it amazing to think of how we can impart glimpses of who we are that last in the hearts of strangers without our even knowing. So this poem combines two things I love--driving with the window down and the mystique of our encounters.

Riding Solo

For now I am driving home – a dreamlike sun

fillets the tops of cars on the road –

sending hillsides and fence posts into

an era of hazy gold. With the window down

it is loud as loud. The frenzy of air

knots my hair like some heart-set lover.

Miles ahead, a farmer burns his fields –

the smoke slitting the sky without prejudice –

the scent is ancient. Everything

that has ever been is again. There are many

directions this road could lead.

My chest fists with thankfulness for those

I love, a kind of prayer.

On a different road years ago I happened

a glance out the window – buried

my eyes in a pond huddled by trees.

I will never know the man sitting there

cross-legged near a makeshift teepee.

The prospect of him still an echo. He

wore a straw hat, mirrored the calm of water.

Are we not the sum of chance encounters?

And who am I in the minds of others?

Have I ravished a heart? Perhaps faith –

faith is simply knowing we are thought of.

It is impossible to be alone.