The Choice
Last night it stormed. The cloud then dropped a curtain
at the meadow’s verge, hiding the distant mountains.
The gray mass moved toward me slowly, its
indistinct edge threatening to envelop
me, promising forgetfulness of sin
and memory, a state without regret
or guilt, where I only look ahead
and deal with each new day as best I can.
I ponder whether to flee or face this choice
and realize that I have lost my voice.
Change shivers me, although I know it is
the is of life, I am not ready for this quiz.
But life won’t wait while I dally and dither,
and not deciding, is a choice to wither.
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