A Final Resting

Casting in an empty parking lot
while inside an old man flexes his fingers
defying age
a slight tremor of acknowledgment in his face
looking with half-closed eyes at the wall
seeking and not finding some small item
a final wisdom

The pastel lights on the slated floor
are clean
wiped and dusted down once more
for a final day, a final resting

While outside he casts to an empty parking lot
waiting for the clouds and the rise
the rocks, the dust, and the dirty wind
thunderhead
whipped thin by the fury
the rising heat and it’s all over

Resting
within the burn stained room
he wonders
at a wall of absolutions