MORNING TREK
by Michael Keshigian
He rarely has
nights when he can sleep
deep beneath the
comforter
and curl himself
back
into the security
of childhood
upon the twin bed
next to his brother,
a life he can
barely remember.
His parents have
since departed
for that permanent
slumber, touching hands forever
in a room with no
view, now distant and deaf
to the whimper of
nightmares
that occasionally
still startle him awake,
instilling
restlessness
in the milk-white
light of dawn.
The trembling rays
of sun
split the pines on
these cool summer morns
then splinter the
window
of his shaded
bedroom
and on the days
when calm abandons him,
he rises to walk.
At the docks, it
soothes him
to see giant pines
still asleep in their bark,
the dreamless
vegetation, unscarred
by human steps,
swaying in the early breeze
as the huge ball
of fire ignites
the watery horizon
with flames
that abruptly
shatter the darkness
about the sleeping
lake homes.
The loons have
ceased lamenting.
Silently, he
thanks the crystal spirit of summer
for the comforting
yellow gift of morning.
Soon houses blink
their windows open,
a motor roars
across the lake
and in the
distance
a chimney raises
its smoky arms skyward.
The forest absorbs
night as light walks
the mulch paths
toward day.
He turns homeward,
listens to his own footsteps,
no longer in
search of himself.
Michael Keshigian is the author of 14
poetry collections and has
recently been published in the Comstock Review, Young Ravens Literary
Review, Studio One, Smoky Quartz, and Jerry Jazz Musician.
He has been nominated seven times for the Pushcart Prize and three times for
Best of The Net.