Daily Diary, Day 859:
STRATEGIC RETREAT
It takes a special village to succor pain
for one whose wondrous world of words
no longer sings,
who bears insistent whistling mist
above the halting words
of love,
whose proud discourse is humbled
to snatches of phrase,
apologies and
angst,
who needs a cutting edge of words
to stem exchange
between the minds of friends.
Visit with her
in her village of quiet cats
who walk and talk in fog like creepings,
ever there
and not there,
to be felt and treasured
in her quiet bed.
--Joseph Locke