I had lunch today with Pan.
–A birthday party;
he comes each year,
to eat oats and honey.
–Life’s nectar,
and to tell me that all is okay, all right, blessed.
Though reassuring, I don’t believe his devilish lies.
“It could be better,” I say.
He takes a sip of orange tea.
–Nibbles a tidbit of raisin bread toast with strawberry jam.
“There are special ones who feel deeply, but lose joy,” he says.
‘They are the most vulnerable,” I add thoughtfully as I take a scolding tone,
“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”
“Is there any other way?” he asks.
The sun is at sky’s peak and we laugh.
photo courtesy of Blake Webster
Pan
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