OPTIONAL POETRY

Loathe to return from the sun-lit ledge the valley below still shadowed by peaks and cutting across it a dream of a lake voiceless for a while we didn’t even speak just felt the warmth of sun the chill of wind attuned and not attenuated Emily’s right the soul has its moments bandaged escaped retaken– all the way down it felt like shackles the hours closing in again appallingly close so terribly still