Friday, February 17, 2006

Stranded in Atlanta, thinking about Austin

Worn beauty

Lost as I was watching rusted tin reworked
glowing into velvet bronze and copper, a voice
pulled me back: a dirty gnarled small man.

He asked what I was doing, I told him looking at the
beautiful light. His grin (split leathered broken-toothed)
widening, he shared what he saw early that morning:
one sunrise sunbeam arrowing down a doorway while
the full moon sat like a fat pearl in remnants of night.

“You should have seen it. That’s what makes life worth living,”
he smiled, running hard fingers through matted hair, tugging
his greasy cap down low.

We said our good-byes. Saying more not needed,
no excess in that moment of worn beauty.

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