At the Terminal

While I am waiting for you in
a hollow tunnel of
dust and light with the
wind and grit trying to
get at my eyes I think about how you
no and I
yes and I

can now only find
meaning and
solace in
these three things

an iron and glass lantern
unlit and hung in a
front yard
maple tree and the

vast span of an old
Vermont barn at
windy sunset with swifts swallows and
arcing old trees and a

minion of tiny minnows just under
the lily pads and millfoil and all the
other vegetation that shelters and
chokes us

you and me
these three
and the long wait for

yes and no.