Lifelines

More about Lifelines

When thoughts close in,
she lowers herself
to smaller things—
a beetle worrying bark,
a curled sycamore leaf,
ants threading the grass.

Behind her,
the black angel keeps watch,
bronze wings dark with rain.
The sun-warmed bench
bears her weight.

Strangers pause at the brush,
following a thin, fluting call.
A chipmunk bursts from the honeysuckle.
Laughter—
another lifeline.

She reaches down.
Something living
reaches back.