8113. I CONFIDE

I CONFIDE

I've arrived at trouble by the

only door I know : the one that

neither opens nor closes; just

swings in place. There's no

place for either the in or the 

out, and anyway I wouldn't 

go. It's that time of the season 

when all things change. When 

Mayday wrings the neck of things,

and blossoms force flowers from

growth on the trees; leaves replaced

for the moment by beauty. I can

carry this force field of fire wherever

I go, but I can never define what it is.

There's a stranger walking with me,

one mute and callous, yet strong and

ready. It is to Him that I confide.