Moses and the burning bush

Aged now I sit here

the withered bush beside me

in the wind

crinkles as if on fire

and a young maid came by and by

and sat beside me

knowing her I said hello

aghast she turned and fled

I realized then she had been a stranger

except the wind

the sun and the sound

of the bush beside me

clouded my mind and made me think

of another maid with whom once I did sit

and we spoke

and her hand resting near her right thigh

and my hand resting near my left thigh

did touch

little finger to little finger

and my heart burst

and I have carried that flame

through the years — the way the tallest mountain

carries ice all year round

and the ice catches all sunlight

and imprints the mind

with hope

and joy

for things that may never be

and only when we come into an old age

do we accept that vision

and bear no ill will to what has and has not

happened along the way.