Summer Straw

- jan-u-wine

Just a simple straw hat  -
 
brim
torn
by too many careless summers,
 
too many days when impatient
hands
pulled
it from its peg in hurried passing.
 
Still,
 
I smile,
 
and touch the ragged edge,
imagining it balanced
above the gravity of your face.
 
I see you there, reading,
so serious
by the green of the river,
 
the haphazard yellow of straw
shading your eyes darker,
 
sunlight freckling the leaves
that twine your hair,
 
sleeves rolled
proper,
shirt buttoned,
just  so,
even in the heat of the day..
 
It is good to have this hat
now
that autumn is nigh.
 
Always,
 
when it is time the harvest is called Home,
I fear a harvest of a different sort,
 
and a calling
 
and a Home
 
which lies beyond a darker Road.
 
My heart fears these things,
though it should have no cause.
 
No cause beyond the silence that
falls,
 
sometimes,
 
unbidden
into a tale you might be telling,
 
a shadow glancing like night
upon your silvered laughter...
 
your eyes
following
 
nothing
 
in the chill
that gathers
close about you....
 
your head,
lost in dreams
as disorder'd
as the desk upon
which it rests.
 
You needn't tell me,
then,
 
what calls you,
 
and where.
 
Even after
the Roads we've shared,
 
still, there is this little
bit of you
I will never know....
 
 
this small place...
 
this.....
 
hurt
which I cannot touch.
 
I wonder
if even you
can find that
place,
that hurt
within yourself.
 ************
 
It is good
to hold to
the simple,
sun-remembered
straw
 
In its silence,
still  it speaks -

 it speaks
of you.
 
You
have promised:
 
you shall make
no journey
so far
that I shall not be able
to find you again.
 
Yet still I wait....
 
and fear that which I cannot name,
 
my mind turning on that place
buried deep behind the shadows
gathering like forever within your eyes.