NEAR ENOUGH
Occasional deer, wild turkeys,
rabbits or high winds will light
a bulb I’ve mounted in the yard
to startle flowerbed intruders.
Any sound or presence will ignite
what’s always itching to illuminate.
Often at midnight it glows
and tints my neighbor’s yard
and half of mine with noon.
Nearness turns it on- just nearness.
Tonight it makes me think
of patients surfacing from comas
after they hear the voice
of one they love.
Or lifelong
mates who have identical
thoughts while working side
by side in silence.
Or those
held dear but long since gone
becoming dearer being gone.
It all comes down to nearness.
At first, nothing.
Then, light.
Then, love.
Otherwise, the darkness.