One Glance

Alan Harris

From its western podium

the setting sun conducts

for half an hour

a symphony of colored sky:

loud oranges and penetrating purples

resolving into softer pinks and muted blues.

Under this musical sky,

noticing your smile and breeze-tossed hair,

I glance deep into the centuries

behind your clear eyes--

and I remember.

This moment was and is and will be.

It never was not, and never cannot be--

one precious moment of purest love,

breathless and deathless.

Inner spirit needs only one glance, no more--

no rush or embrace or kiss or promise.

One glance opens your soul to me,

and I know your soul and love your soul.

This musical sky is fleeting;

these bodies will grow old and cold;

but my memory of this one glance

will never fade, as must the sky.

Our symphonic sun's bright colors

have mellowed now to a somber gray

as we walk along

not knowing what to say.

All