The Foghorn Rumbled

The Foghorn Rumbled

(“You keep completely safe the people who maintain their faith, for they trust in you.” Isaiah 26:3)

The foghorn rumbled through the mist
like a rumor, a hint of memories carried above
the river months ago. It was the safest song
to hear
on a day like this.

Too many days alone turn silence into a
jumbled abacus;
nothing adds up. Houses of old friends,
now occupied by strangers,
repainted; the same moss tempers the driveway.

Some trails never change;
season to season, the view remains the same.
Some sounds pierce the day and sweep the mind away
to imperfect visions that
draw us toward the yearnings we feel
are more touchable than the boulders we lean on
watching for an opening in the sky.

And today, punctuated by foghorn bellows
and occasional doves, rust and white on the wing,
may be the place we rest after
all

The longing is done.