The Coin

Once more the dark figure
comes out of the evening shadows
at the edge of the woods
tossing his coin up,
letting it land in his palm,
and someone is gone.

The river flows,
bright in sun
dark in shadow.

He looks at the coin
and tosses it again.

The river flows
bright in sun
dark in shadow.

Did you see him,
the day you fell?
Did he fall beside you?

Or did he come before,
one of those winter nights
that I would awake
and see you at the window?
Was he there,
standing under the burgundy leaves of the maple
out of the streetlight’s circle
tossing his coin?

The river flows
bright in sun
dark in shadow.

I thought I saw you today
bending over the wild asters
but it was just a small movement of the willow branch
and a fluttter of startled sparrows.

The river flows
bright in sun
dark in shadow.

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6 thoughts on “The Coin

  1. Christine says:

    Wow, there is something darkly magical about this poem! I felt like I was being drawn to some unearthly conclusion. Beautiful!!

  2. Q says:

    I am seriously spooked by this piece. It is beautiful and dark and I’m going to sleep with the nightlight on!

  3. goldbot says:

    I like your incarnation of Chance in this darkened figure and the imagery of the poem

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