Bob Schwartz

You catch me
Head cradled gently in my hands
As if in pain.
You might even ask:
Are you okay?
Is something wrong?

When I release my hands
Raise my head
And you look closely
You are not so sure.

No lines of worry
No clenched brow.
No smile, it’s true,
Instead a convoluted calmness.

The light is in tiny pieces
Arriving and out of reach.
Visions, memories, hopes
That neither burden nor comfort.

I hold my head
As I see and stretch.
Nothing else but an exercise
In near sweetness
Lifting my way
To the rest of the day
To the rest of the days.