When darkness drops

The day is cool,
and I sit resolutely in my car,
still simmering a bit from a recent argument,
and, waiting for calm to descend,
I watch as the ferry turns
and the light,
streaming through
a thin spot in the cloud layer,
slowly bathes the arch above
in a still pure gift of joy,
pouring over the worn metal
like water over a baby's head,
as if mama squeezed the washcloth
one more time
we giggle together,
ferry and I and baby
reveling in the soft warm tickle
of the drips of light
flowing over us,
then slide into quiet dreaming
as darkness drops and the rain begins.


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