Once I was reading to a friend
We sat on deck chairs at his house front
Feet away from a lake, surrounded
By the luster of nature.
As I read he listened,
I got deeper and deeper into the text.
The first signs of a strong wind evolved
Tossing hair over my eyes,
I kept reading.
As wind strengthened, branches
Slowly began reaching out to me,
Long gnarled knuckled arms
With tiny fern leaves quivering
Violently in the storm. One branch
Almost touching the book.
Without need for contemplation
I began to feel frightened.
I had fallen out with nature,
She was angry.
With my words I was interrupting
My friend's attention to
Her breezy and unthreatening silence.
I stopped reading
In that instant nature was serene again
As if nothing had happened.
I asked my friend if he liked
What I was reading,
He said no.
So I said we'll do something different next time.
I told him we could pass the time leisurely
By sitting at the front of my house.
This time for entertainment
I would be his ghostwriter.
I would listen to his story and use my pen
To commit it to the page.