The back yard, crisscrossed with paths you have created
with found bricks and dried mud, opens breathing space
for magic, spreads out beyond the wood fence across
the alley to infinity. I walk to the back gate, new moss
under my feet, in the warm sun of a late spring morning,
through blooms that left us impatient with their coy malingering.
On the window sill, succulent leafy stems
of kalanchoe turn their heads to the stream
of late afternoon sun, brilliant just before
it disappears in the rose-orange sky, more
oil painting than an exhibition of nature’s
synchronized dance, a circadian surety
that we never doubt or question. Yet
Kierkegaard says of belief if we have no doubt
we cannot believe. He never looked into your face
when dusk mutes the blaze of each bright day’s
progress into summer, and I know, certain
as the sun will rise, that I doubt in vain.
~ Diane Wahto
Diane Wahto, a retired Butler Community College English instructor, lives with her husband, and two dogs in Wichita. Her three children and five grandchildren live in Lawrence and Shawnee, Kansas. Recently, her poems “The Conspiracy of Coffee” and “After the Storm” were published in Active Aging.