After Years Apart

The town moved on its streets
in familiar sunshine, storefronts
beamed, the quiet stare of traffic
lights kept automobiles lively, a corner bank
hoisted an impartial awning for debtors
and creditors, somewhere a bell clapped
for attention, the town’s small boy and
dog searched the gutter, the market
wore a friendly gloved smile. But I
was a stranger seen by faceless glances,
jostled by a scurrying people at stores
and corners, an arrival too new to know
my neighbors. Then you and I at an
intersection met face-to-face after
years apart as if I had found at the
end of a journey a clear cool lake
hid in a grove, and looking at you
saw not the features I was bound to
but the path your feet made on my
heart’s highway.