Before Group Meditation
       

I recall splendor.
On a borrowed bicycle,
I wobbled fast

downhill over jutting roots,
a swarm of horseflies
like a grainy moon

following close behind.
At the bottom of the hill,
a little rain shining in

a corner of wind.
Now the upbeat counselor
passes around a basket

of rocks. My friend Dan,
the Vietnam vet, says,
I knew I wasn't going to be smart

so boy I was going to be tough.
All his sentences are like that,
clean as autumn. Each afternoon

we sit in a circle. I take a rock,
I wish you were here,
and I pass the basket on.

Tweet

Copyright © 2017 Chloe Honum All rights reserved
from Then Winter
Bull City Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission