Altar

I could kneel here for hours apologizing
     for what I didn't do so well

or not at all.

Though it was no crime at the time, now
     the pain of deadly loss

makes it so

and the price I pay is huge––the icy quiet
in the house he's made,

the joys I'll never see again;

the end of ease.

What's the point?

Today's the point. 
It's the whole beautiful point. 

First the gorgeous silence when I wake,

the silence of an old sleeping swan. 

The coffee without sound, made without
a single thought and I lean

against the sink to feel 
the tender quiet slip around 
my shoulders with a hug. 

A friend texts: Meet on the bay? 

And before that cobalt sea I bend,

the friend chatting beside me.

I want to hear her every word 
but the rise and fall and the rise and fall 
and the rise and the fall 
of waves, waves, more waves 
coax my ears away 

and all my cares tip-toe 
toward that shore--
to get a little break from me.

How sweet, how thoughtful 
my cares can be.