A Moment When Everything Seems Alright.

 

My neighbors and I

have collectively strung 

thousands of lights 

to porches, posts,

and windowsills

in order to beat 

back the darkness 

in our hearts.

If I stare down

my street as dusk 

passes,

breathing deep 

unseasonably warm

November,

allow my mind

to become 

uncharacteristically

uncluttered,

everything seems alright,

which is a cool

feeling 

now and then,

all any of us wants,

really,

even when my

waking mind,

cluttered as it is,

knows better.

4th Street Bridge

4th Street traveling west curves through 

oak trees and houses, up and over Black River.

I have crossed this bridge

hundreds of times since childhood.

It's my empty pre-dawn 

route to work these days,

A few days ago, in still dark morning,

I thought I'd come back around

to see the full moon, corner of my eye, but 

it was bullshit, an illuminated window, 

top floor, in the riverside high rise.

The moon further west,

like being fooled by an old friend.

I reached for my coffee, and

approached the stoplight

certain only of uncertainty,

a wisdom born of bridges.