The Man in the Yellow Field

A Poem About Dancing with Death

Crouching in the field of brilliant yellow calendula
He faces away from the sun
That glances across his handsome face
He was my lover once

We have just walked on the mountain, through the forest
I gathered tiny wildflowers
To bring home to press in my journal
He posed for pictures

We stood side by side and looked out to the sea below
Amazed at the beauty
Of this island of seasons and change
Spring is here now

Tonight he dances with Life while Death watches
Leans against the open door
Not listening to music, but watching
Inquisitive

Death is fascinated by his will to LIVE
Unusual
No fear — just joy — playfulness
He sighs

Death pretends not to be looking
But He is.
The dancer holds his eye unflinching
Death looks away first