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| Solitary Traveler, Kate Worman-Becker |
After the lifetime of dutiful
growing, taking and transforming
sunlight, nurturing wood, giving
all to the swelling fruit, the lifetime
as one of the crowd, all dressed
alike in workday green, all rustling
together with every movement
of the air, at last to put on
true colors, and be
unbound,
to go
alone, floating
from darkness
to light,
between bare
branches, dodging
trailing fingers,
nothing
to make, to
do, nothing
to control. Only
to ride
the air, the water, to
kindle a spark,
fire caught
in the light, in the middle,
dancing
into the dark.
Liz Huck