Mind And Body

Entry by: Seth Dinario

8th June 2017
I Spoke To A Woman In The Woods Today

I tread the wooded paths
Dimly aware of the drizzle
And the way to go
Not lost, but lost in thought
Reflecting on his life and
Who he was to me
Today we bury my Uncle.

Saline springs to my eyes early
Who was he, really?
What was he to me?
Cautious, reliable, ostensibly dull
But with a definite humour
A wit that sometimes said:
"Let me out! Open my pages.
I see yours, let's write life together."

I wipe my eyes; I see a dog
An owner of some sort must be near.
I un-don my headphones, furl my umbrella
There she is: dumpy, blonde, forgettable
(If I was being cruel)
But learned, conditioned, habitual kindness
Bids me say at least "hello."
And that sparse greeting morphs shamelessly
Into a platitude regarding the unseasonal weather.

Her face drops its guard
A smile accompanies a reply
Not eager, exactly, but cordial
I hear my voice expand upon
Its meteorological gambit
I was woken at five by the deluge,
I say. Biblical, it was.

As much as I want
The quirky response
Some wit re: Noah
Or the allusion it may have been
A dream, a memory, a myth
I am oddly relieved
When she makes some trivial remark
About her plants:
As forgettable as her face, her clothes.
That is how the script goes
I reflect
As I resume my solitary path.

I imagine the blonde woman and I
Caught up in a terror attack
It's easy to believe we'd team up,
If it came to it.
Push aside the likely outcome:
That we'd cower,
waiting for one
To tell the other
What to do
Until the end.

Cerebrally I snap back
To thoughts of my Uncle
The tears return
And I cannot tell
If I'm crying
For him
For me
Or the woman
I spoke to in the woods today.