May 29th

“Where can I go from your spirit?
   Or where can I flee from your presence? Psalm 139:7

in that dimly lit
pub where we hope
no one knows our name,
you hand us a pint, and
wiping down the bar,
you stand, in the silence,
just in case . . .
we sit on the bench
in the shadows of the trees
at the cemetery, so you pause
and lean on the rake, gazing
with us at our love’s marker,
just in case . . .
as we trudge down the
side of death’s dusty road,
you pull up beside us,
open the door,
and offer us a ride,
just in case . . .
whenever,
wherever,
however
we are convinced that
we can make it on our own,
you show up
just in case . . .

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman