Ode to a Solitary
Alas for me! The more I seek
my solitude, the less of it I find.
Wherever I look for it, my shadow
looks with me
-Ferran
Lone wolf loping
along the river’s bank
footfalls and breath
in synch
with the water’s rhythm.
A gust of chill wind
flocks of amber
and brown leaves
fall to earth
October moon
huge orange orb
hanging low
just above a hilltop.
It’s all an image held
in unblinking eyes
eyes that stare into
themselves.
The solitary strolls along
the soft dark edges
of deep night
the boulevard, deserted.
He is whistling
a long improvisation;
it goes on for over thirty minutes
never a phrase repeated.
The mask has slipped again
but he has no desire
to hold it in place
persona be gone!
It’s only a mouthpiece
to play through
He brings forth
an ecstatic lament
a duet performed
with a man
miles distant
from the whistler
a man who stands by himself
in slouched silhouette
silver horn pressed to lips
passionate loneliness
pouring out
in a rich stream of notes.
One day the wolf notices
that he has a companion
running along side.
Who are you?
he asks.
Your mate on the journey
she says.
He gives her a long look
nods slowly.
Okay, let’s go.
We’ll follow the river
to its end.
The river has no end
she says.
He looks at her again
smiles slightly
That’s right
he says.