Naked In The Sunset

Naked In The Sunset

I am naked in the sunset
floating toward the falling sky,
stars seeping into my streaming eyes,
my virgin ears listening to past voices
singing familiar phrases of love and death.

Finally at the place I call my home,
rooted in wistful childhood memories of backyard fences,
separating us from an old man with a vegetable garden
into which my whiffle ball lands with a whimper.

Here I have chosen to live out this life,
in this yellow cottage in the green valley
at the foot of the mysterious, mystic mountain
walking distance to the cemetery soil
into which I will be buried.

Fear has abided,
giving way to comfort in the knowledge
that I am that old man with the vegetable garden
on the other side of the fence.

Dennis Wayne Bressack
Woodstock, New York
October 8, 2017