Intersections

Once on a hot, humid day
at the lake, a snake swam calmly by
the bank where I
was sweating in the sun. Suddenly
it came and moved
slowly, the water rippling and settling
in its wake. It held its head up, skimming
the surface, one eye
turned to where I stood. Silently
it slipped into the shadows
near the shore
and disappeared.

Once I came upon a vulture gutting
a rabbit in the middle
of a country road. I braked
and stopped there
for a time. The vulture, unhurried, raised its head
to look my way and I,
behind the windshield, sat repelled and still
somehow unwilling
to interrupt the meal. We waited a long
moment until the bird
finally gave way, clumsily lifting its body
up and into the sky.

You and I will meet again. Perhaps it will be
something simple,
that chance encounter at the
coffee shop. The gray in your hair will shine
under a bright light. You will smile and hold out
your hand. For an instant, you will be
there, you alone. And I, here, transfixed
by the sudden awareness
of you.