It was Monday when you looked at the light
glazing the window.
Monday of wet clothes flapping in the wind,
Monday of the heart beating in its cage.
The sun hunts a way to break through long clouds.
A tree falls between two houses. The wind,
rain, your good fortune.
It was Monday and the I was now he . . .
Shadows bent around the walls where he walked,
he had no compass.
On earth he could find many things to love.
May this be one, or two, or maybe all
the green leaves we wear in Eden.
Wherever that is.
(8 August 2011)
copyright 2011 by Floyce Alexander