Anchor

I try to live the day slowly
but it is not easy.

I see an old friend
with anchored in the now
inked forever on soft skin.
I draw two foxes by a fire
in love
and wonder about
my next addition.

My eyes won’t let me see
what the others see,
but I still stare
in the same direction.

We are all
inaccurate dreamers.

At night we listen
to the coyotes
as they call and play
outside our windows
sounding closer than they are.
He shines a flashlight
and we see a set of eyes.
They stop,
look,
wait,
and are gone.
I am envious of his patience
as I attempt to foresee my next move.

Doing is easier then feeling
but I must move carefully,
gradually,
whatever direction I go.