From the early evening chill
Of this Autumn wind
I feel a presence,
Drifting amidst the trees,
Darting behind a column
A car, a flickering lamp,
Pacing this quickly
Emptying montage of
Darkness vehicle concrete.
The night is cold,
But the pricks and
Slices against my nerves
Scream
Metal scraping metal,
Nail on chalkboard,
Against my danger ears,
Not just on skin growing
Numb.
I investigate timidly
The creeping absence of light
Blowing in with sunset,
Half deciding to ignore
This violation upon my environment
And drive my merry way.
But I feel a laugh
Vibrate sharply along
My aching trembling spine.
Spinning glancing hoping...
But no one "there".
My nostrils flare as if
By some olfaction
I could detect what
Sight and Sensation
Have left in secrecy.
A moment more
And a true breeze gifts
A frozen warmth which is
Much desired in its physicality.
The presence is gone
But the message is not...
And while trepidation is victorious,
A part of me smiles,
Eager,
For I know He is finally
Coming....
