Hope is such a bait, it covers any hook —  Oliver Goldsmith

These words you don’t remember,
wind tearing through the sky,
your soul packed with fortitude
sparks will fly.

Coals flare into flames, a pettiness
of strife. Suddenly, replete: golden sands,
crystal brooks, silken lines, silver hooks,
glimpsing what’s already there,
she begins to mount the stairs.

Who cares?
A friend you trust implicitly,
a lover you don’t like,
a reckoning, that’s possible,
a slight rearranging of the night.

A deep study of false documents,
poems, yes, you may surmise,
that woman who called yesterday,
thank God! She’s still alive!

A feeling that’s desirable,
I’ll say it loud, now, if you please,
this never-ending circle,
designed, I think, to tease.

The beginning of the end, my friend,
your starting block aimed high,
a moment of deep-set intimacy,
Look! Lightning streaks the sky!

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