Erasing black

 

I live a midnight vigil, lie still

in rain whipped by Montana wind,

 

try to dream my father back,

deliver a proper farewell --

 

will wrap myself in his gaze

as he recalls how wild rabbits 

 

nibbled near his feet at sundown.

The motion sensor made darkness

 

spring to light. They froze, hopped,

froze again. If I feign sleep, maybe

 

they will arrive in small leaps,

him trailing with a smile to release

 

the loss, transform my dream

into a gateway to the past --

 

boy, age two, dadparalyzed

by polio, alone in some hospital.

 

I refuse to eat, sit by the window,

breathless, wait. He lurches

 

on crutches from the night,

brings back a steady light.

 

                             Timothy Pilgrim